Pioneer Passion (12 page)

“De men are brandin’ won’t be back ‘til late
tonight. Mattie got cannin’ t’ do chil’, want t’ help?

The chair that she nosily pushed away from
the table muffled her sigh. “I guess I should do something.” She
lifted her shoulders then let them sag. To her own ears her voice
sounded no more enthusiastic than she felt.

The day passed quickly and Rusty found that
she was enjoying the chore with the kind cook and even found
herself laughing at times. It wasn’t fair taking out her wrath on
the servant, so she gave the big woman a hug. She had to make
amends for her terrible disposition so licking her dry lips, she
said, “Mattie, I want to apologize for acting so childish and thank
you for tending to me. If it weren’t for your nurturing care I
might not be here now. I’m sorry. Can you forgive a silly girl?”
Mattie nodded, appearing choked up, and Rusty left noticing the
cook wiping a tear from her eyes.

She took a nice bath; it still amazed her
that the outhouse was indoors. What will they think of next? she
mused while soaking in rose-scented water until she pruned. The
bath relaxed her so much that she retired early and awoke late the
next day discovering, according to Mattie, that she missed two
things: A beautiful sunrise and Guy at the breakfast table.
Although, a little disappointed, she was sure it was best since she
wasn’t ready to confront him just yet. Of course, that’s what she
told herself.

So why did she continue to glance out the
kitchen window, hoping to see him return? Moments later, a sharp
rap on the back door made her jerk.

Mattie let in Pete Stacks, a timid sort of a
man. He was tall and broad shouldered, sporting the nickname,
Haystack.

“Mornin’ ma’am,” Haystack said, fidgeting
with his worn hat.

The cook seemed to eye the big man with
interest and Rusty nodded. She asked the man to sit, but he
refused, and said, “Only dropped in to tell you how sorry the ranch
hands are over what happened, ma’am.”

He looked so sincere that Rusty’s heart
melted. The big man shifted uneasily from one leg to another and
she admired him for taking the trouble to voice his and the men’s
concern.

“Please call me Rusty,” she offered. “Did you
lose a lot of cattle?” she asked knowing the answer.

“No ma’am,” he shook his head negativity. “We
were lucky, just a few.”

“That’s good news.” She stood trying to sound
pleased and smiled, but the smile was an effort. She let him out,
thanking him again for his kind concern.

That night, Rusty stood looking out of the
bedroom window. She spotted Guy coming home and her heart leaped.
Half of her wanted to run into his arms, missing his company; the
other half was still sick over the destruction his herd caused. She
sat in the bed now feeling more vexed at herself than with him, but
admitted with some reluctance that she used her anger to keep him
at bay. It really wasn’t his fault the storm caused the stampede.
She was a coward; it was easier to stay mad than to be friends and
to pretend that friendship was all she felt.

Guy was tired after a day of branding. He had
lost a lot of sleep, thinking about that fiery hot-tempered girl in
his house. There was a rage building up in him and he felt as
through his nerves were going to snap and she was the cause. His
leg still burned where he accidentally branded himself. His
concentration had lapsed for a moment when her beautiful face
appeared in his mind’s eye. He cursed but deserved the mark for his
carelessness. And he had had enough; tonight they would talk, tired
of bearing the brunt of her anger. No longer would he take
responsibility for her perception that he was the cause of all her
bad luck.

His first thought was to see her as soon as
he returned home, but he took a dip in the cool pond, hoping to
quench his own temper. It was late when he let himself into the
main house. All was quiet and he suspected the kid and Mattie had
long ago retired. Heating some left over coffee, he gulped it down,
noting his temper was still not in check and still feeling as if
his mind would explode. Still, he headed for her room. This would
end tonight! He knocked forcefully on the door not caring if Mattie
awoke; though he knew she was a hard sleeper and her room was
behind the kitchen.

“Who is it?” He heard the small voice behind
the door and sighed. “It’s Guy,” he whispered having second
thoughts about waking Mattie.

“Go away!” was all she said fueling his
temper. “Open the door, brat, or I’ll kick it down!” he bellowed,
losing his composure again. He’d settle this once and for all and
the hell with whoever heard!

Deadly silence…but, not for long because he
slammed his fist hard causing him to wince in pain; he cursed
realizing that this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He let a few
minutes tick away to only silence on both sides of the barrier.

“If you don’t want to put on a show for
Mattie’s benefit, I suggest that you open the damn door.”

Guy raised his hand to pound again when he
was startled and surprised as he flew into the room, skidding to an
abrupt halt. Rusty had the gall to greet him with a taunting smile
to her mouth but disappeared fast when she saw lines of
determination edged deeply on his face. Shutting the door, the
little imp didn’t take her eyes off him and stood her ground as he
crossed the room in three strides. Guy took Rusty by the shoulders
and shook her until her teeth rattled.

Apparently, she had no intentions of letting
him snap her head off her shoulders. With all her strength, she
balled her small fist and punched him in the gut, causing him to
exhale a grunt. Rusty took that moment to forcefully push him
backwards to stumble onto the bed. He just lay there staring up at
the ceiling. He had been more stunned than hurt and realized that
the blow made his senses return when his body fused to the soft
mattress. He rubbed the tender spot and moaned out of sheer
exasperation. Why does she bring out the worst in me? Taking a deep
breath, he composed himself and his wounded pride. This was the
second time she had gotten the best of him, and although it was
kinda funny, he wasn’t laughing.

“Jehoshaphat’s, kid, have you gone plumb
loco, you goose?” Seeing the frightened look in her green eyes he
knew he had scared her. Fool, you don’t know when to shut the hell
up!

Rusty glanced at the door and he suspected
that she didn’t know whether to stay or run, but she watched to see
what he would do next.

“Guy?” She took a brave step closer and
licked the dryness from her lips. “I’m sorry for treating you so
badly. But what could I do? You attacked me?” She winced knotting
together her fingers and he felt remorse to have such an effect on
her. He didn’t want her to be scared of him, but he let her finish.
He was entitled to an explanation for her childish behavior.

“Mattie had told me how worried you’d been
and how the men had cleared the field so I can plant again in the
spring. Guy, I’m sorry for the way I acted. Please forgive me.” A
tear escaped and ran down the side of her nose. She continued in a
shaky voice. “I know all that happened was not your fault. You
didn’t cause my father’s heart to fail. You weren’t responsible for
the storm and the stampede. But, my home...” Rusty blinked trying
to stop the flood of water from spilling over. She failed miserably
and the whimpering sound in her voice nearly broke his heart.
“Though this is a fine house, I… err, I….”

The tension eased somewhat from his body.
“Here, kid, I’m sorry too and don’t cry I hate tears.” Guy shoved a
wrinkled bandanna under her runny nose and she blew hard and then
he was standing before her. And as if he had been doing it all his
life, his arms enclosed her. Collapsing against his chest she wept
and he picked her up and placed her in the bed. He sat cuddled next
to her and kissed the salty wetness from her cheeks. He cooed,
“It’s all right, sweetheart. It’s all right.”

Rusty shuddered and hiccoughed, wiping her
nose with the back of her hand. “Are you sure?” she rasped.

“Absolutely,” he demurred with a wide smile,
leaving him with mixed feelings. Whether it was all right or not,
she snuggled against his chest, accepting what had happened to her.
“Very well,” she amended. “I don’t want to fight the inevitable
anymore,” and emitted a relieved sigh. The woman in his arms
drifted away listening to his soothing words.

When he heard her steady breathing, he didn’t
move even when his spine began to complain against the headboard.
His legs soon grew numb and his shirt was soaked from her tears,
but he didn’t dare move a muscle and sat that way for a long, long
time. In the midst of all his discomfort, he had never felt so
close to a female before. She felt so good in his arms that he
wanted to make love to her, even now, while he held her as she
slept. There was a stirring in his groin that had been occurring
too often lately.

In the past week, she’d angered him to the
point of distraction, he didn’t know whether to throttle her or
kiss her senseless. She was a high-strung girl with a heap of pride
and when he had rushed into her room, he wanted to break her; he
wanted to kiss her; he wanted to scream! He didn’t know what he
wanted. His nerves were as tight as an over-wound clock. And it
didn’t help the situation seeing her wearing only his shirt, giving
his eyes access to her long, shapely legs. A few buttons were
unfastened creating a deep v-neck, exposing most of her soft
heaving breasts. Her partly undressed state only caused greater
arousal as he approached her. But he had lost control and shook
her, for which he now regretted.

He pressed his eyelids shut, tried to get the
picture of her lying next to him, exposing all of herself, out of
his mind. He couldn’t. Or, he wouldn’t. He inhaled deeply and
rubbed his chin softly against the top of her fiery head. When he
could stand it no longer, he eased his body away from hers and left
the exhausted girl to sleep. But no matter how many times he called
her a kid, he had to admit, she was all woman. Guy fell asleep with
his lips taut wondering how the tables had been turned on him. He
had gone to talk some sense into that kid, no young woman, and he
left her room feeling as if she had whipped his ass.

Damn, females! Ah, but ya got to love
‘em!

That notion momentarily stunned him. Love?
No, way in hell! The only kind of love he was interested in was
spelled, sex. Now, that was a thought and since he knew Rusty was
just an itch that needed to be scratched, he decided that a trip to
town was his answer. One night with a prostitute was all he
needed.

Chapter Fourteen

Rusty awoke as the morning sun brightened a
path through the window, chasing away the morning’s misty air. She
had a feeling that something was not right. She stretched and
yawned, remembering strong arms hugging her, and sighed. She
recalled the cowboy’s soothing words before drifting off to sleep
and she felt that she never wanted to leave the security of his
comforting embrace.

She was all alone now and assumed that Guy
left sometime during the night, and now she felt part of her was
missing. She realized that that was what was wrong. When she turned
and smelled his musky scent on her pillow, her breath caught in her
throat. She though again why she had hated him and treated him so
cruelly. The truth of the matter was that she was too much of a
coward to be honest with herself.

And, hitting a man in the gut doesn’t make
you loveable in any man’s eyes, you ninny!

Now she was sure of her love for him and
positive he thought of her as a mere child, Rusty slammed her fists
into the pillow and railed, “Well, silly girl, what do you expect?
Look at you, you refuse to wear dresses. You’re such a ninny!
Humph! Too bad.” She set her shoulders with new fortitude, placed
her bare feet on the wooden floor and walked over to the oval
mirror. She took a hard look at her image, and then pouted, “If he
can’t like me this way, too bad.” She continued to argue against
her conscience and stuck out her tongue, prolonging her childish
behavior.

“Clothes shouldn’t make a difference,” she
continued her one sided conversation with the mirror. “It’s time to
get on with my life. I never let anything get me down before.”
Rusty flipped her hair over her shoulder with a renewed pledge,
squared her shoulders defying anyone to stop her and marched out of
the room. After a light breakfast, she went into the yard to find
Guy. There was a need for her to apologize again and for them to
start new. Guy wasn’t in sight, but the newly hired ranch hands
were busy with chores. Rusty smiled reflectively when Grumpy came
forward. He was in his mid-forties but looked and acted much older;
a gentle soul who grumbled all the time. His shabby appearance
bothered her; especially his salt and pepper beard which she
suspected was a nesting place for a bird.

“Mornin’, miss.” He addressed her chewing his
words along with his tobacco, then hacked and spit on the ground
just short of her boots. Rusty flashed a disgusted look but he
didn’t seem to notice. Grumpy removed his hat to speak and she was
grateful but surprised for some manners. “Err, excuse me, ma’am.”
He cleared his throat and her gaze drifted to his Adam’s apple
seeing it bob when he swallowed again. “Err, um… Mr. Strong, the
boss man,” he continued, shifting his hat in his dirty hands, “told
me to tell ya he’d gone to town on personal business.”

She couldn’t understand why she made the man
so nervous and decided he was probably just shy. He spit again
causing brown liquid to run down his beard, and then wiped his
mouth with his sleeve. Her stomach lurched at the sight and she
nodded, trying to hold back a repulsed look. The offending man
turned, missing the disgusted look she gave him. Ugh! What a motley
crew. She couldn’t decide who sickened her more, the foreman
Cockroach, with bug eyes, short arms and legs and big stomach. Part
Indian, he believed in using bear-grease on his hair that smelled
to high heaven. Or Grumpy?