Pioneer Passion (22 page)

Rusty liked her right away. Her eyes were
small, encased in many soft wrinkles. They were slate gray, almost
blending with her gray-streaked hair. The woman had a large nose,
slightly crooked, and a warm smile showing off one missing tooth
and her true gentle nature. But her impressive size told Rusty that
this lady could take care of herself. She took a minute to take in
the surroundings. The small cabin seemed to be the only place for
miles around. Although it was no larger than her place, it was well
kept. The front steps didn’t need repair and the dwelling didn’t
need painting. She was amused to see flowers growing near the
porch. Funny, this woman didn’t seem like the nurturing type. She
shrugged; the woman was kind, and she was grateful for that.

“Well, c’mon, child. Can’t stand there
wool-gatherin’.” She was waved into the house. “Time’s
awastin’.”

“Oh, err, sorry,” Rusty mumbled and kicked
her boots against the door frame to show that she had good manners.
As she stepped into the cabin and felt nothing but dirt under her
feet, she had to smile. The smile soon faded into a frown after
standing in the cabin; it brought back memories of her own
homestead.

Would she ever have a place she could call
home again? Did it really matter? Without Guy, her heart could
never call any place home.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When a door closes, a window might open, and
that’s how Rusty felt upon being rescued by the kind woman standing
in a one-room cabin with a large bed against the far wall. A table
and two-worm eaten chairs sat in the middle of the cubical. What
looked to be a kitchen seemed strange to Rusty. Two large stoves
stood side by side and a wooden counter ran around two walls
completely covered with white stuff. Pots and pans were stacked
almost to the roof. She knew she was gaping but stood totally
puzzled until the woman spoke.

“That’s there is my kitchen and the means of
my existence,” the woman stated proudly. “By the way my name is
Betsy Smith. Big Betsy to my friends,” she added and held out one
of her hands. Rusty stared at it for a moment, and then took it.
The big woman had a good grip, making her wince.

“Sit, child, ya look a mite peaked.” She
pulled out one of the chairs leaving a rut in the dirt. “Now, tell
Big Betsy all about yourself while I straighten up my kitchen.”

Rusty accepted it gratefully. Big Betsy gave
her a smile with a tender twinkle in her gray eyes. She then rolled
up her sleeves and went to work scrubbing pots and pans while she
spoke with a sleepy absentmindedness, telling a small bit of her
tale. How she had fallen in love and it hadn’t worked out. Her eyes
watered but she forced back the urge to cry. The busy woman clicked
her teeth sadly as she slapped a piece of meat into a skillet and
added two eggs. Big Betsy’s tsk, tsking reminded her of Guy’s cook
making her feel all the more homesick. Her thoughts were
interrupted by the aroma and she thought she’d swoon because her
mouth was actually watering from hunger. The jolly woman placed the
food in front of her and sat on the chair facing her.

“If ya care to stay with me, I can use the
help,” Big Betsy commented with a sigh. “Maybe we can put some
flesh on them skinny bones. Can’t pay nothin’. You can share that
big bed and fill your belly with biscuits and pies and sometimes
possum or squirrel stew.” She chuckled when Rusty swallowed hard as
she looked at the meat unsurely, after she was told what it was.
She had eaten squirrel before but never possum. Right now, she was
so famished that she wouldn’t have cared if she were eating a bear.
As she examined her meat, she realized she had missed hearing some
of the woman’s conversation. Rusty picked up the gist of her talk
when she heard the end of Big Betsy’s last sentence.

“....bake bread and pies for the miners and
deliver them early in the mornin’. In fact, ya came upon me as I
was returnin’ from the daily sale of my wares. But you got to git
up when most folks retire; our days are reversed. After I clean up,
like I just did, I go to bed. I raise my old bones around midnight
and start my bakin’ all over again.”

Rusty saw Big Betsy’s eyes dance with
laughter as she asked, “Think ya can do that?” Yes, this
arrangement would do just fine. Rusty stuck out her weary hand and
said with a cheerful grin, “You’ve got yourself a helper but in
case anyone should ask, I like it to be known that I’m a boy.”

Big Betsy slapped her knee. “Honey, I’m
mighty glad ya can stay. I can help ya with some extra duds that’s
been lyin’ in the bottom of my trunk.” The woman must have seen her
perplexed look, because she laughed richly once again and
explained. “I wasn’t always this big, child. One time I was skinny…
well maybe not as thin as ya. Samplin’ all my good bakin’, a little
here and a little there, put a little here.” She touched her wide
hips and added, “And, quite a bit there.” She pushed up her buxom
breasts and winked.

She must have blushed because Big Betsy roar
with laughter and then she drew up her immense bulk and showed
Rusty where to sleep. It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes
when the big woman roused her from a deep sleep. A cheerful face
greeted her with a cup of coffee and a handful of clothes. Ready to
start her first day on the job, she pulled her weary self out of
bed. She wasn’t sure she’d make it, wishing she could sleep another
ten hours, but the hot brew was very strong and shocked her system
fully awake.

After scoffing down a few biscuits, she tried
on the clothes before starting her chores. Rusty found that they
fit rather well, except the shirt, which fit loosely. She giggled,
thinking that Big Betsy must have been very well endowed even
before all her nibbling.

Big Betsy studied her for a moment, tapping
her foot. “You’ll pass if’n’ ya wear the shirt loosely over the
pants and slouch.” Rusty lowered her eyes, understanding her
remark. “My stars, child,” she snorted. “Ya’ll have to git over
that shyness of yours, and stop blushin’ so easily.” She clucked
her tongue, adding, “Ya won’t ever pass around here, especially
around them miners. Even them knowin’ I’m a woman, they cuss and
swear, payin’ me no never mind.”

Rusty nodded. It wouldn’t be easy, but she’d
try.

In the three weeks that had passed Rusty
found the work tiring but not overly hard. The miners were a rowdy
group and she was glad she had hid her identity. Though some seemed
harmless, just wild, she was told that the men had not been around
women for a long time. Once in a while, prostitutes came out in a
buckboard to set up temporary quarters for gambling and partying,
but these times were few and far between. If they knew her true
sex, she wouldn’t be safe even with the big woman’s protection.

By her fourth week everyone liked her pies.
She became friends with one of the miners known as Skinhead because
of his bald cranium that shone like a polished brass ball. She
began to relax, thinking she was safe from the Strong’s, especially
since she had gotten her monthly flow. She was glad she wasn’t
carrying Guy’s child. No one could make her marry now or remain
where she didn’t want to stay.

Although, she missed her home and not knowing
what day of the month this was, she was happy most of the time.
That is, when she didn’t think about deep blue eyes and loving
hands that made her flesh tingle. Yes, she was happy when she
wasn’t remembering. But she remembered, mostly at night when she
fell into the big bed beside the older woman and listened to her
snore. Would she ever forget him completely? No. And what about
Scott? This arrange-ment was all well and good for now, but sooner
or later she had to make some money to return home and pay for her
horse. Although living in Guy’s beautiful home again was no longer
realistic, she had to get back and convince her brother to leave
with her, away from the ranch and all the woes attached to it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Hal knew that it had torn Guy up when he
returned from the range to discover Rusty had vanished. He
explained to him that he had looked for the girl in town but found
no trace of her or anyone fitting her description buying a train
ticket. He also sent some hands out in a ten-mile radius, but they
found nothing of the girl. “Sorry, son, but we did all we could.
Kyle wired your ranch asking your foreman to let us know when or if
she returns,” He didn’t want to see any harm come to her, whether
she was carrying Guy’s child or not. He had become very fond of her
and his instinct told him she would have been good for his son. She
was just the kind of person Guy needed and he hoped that when his
son returned, he would have come to his senses and reconsidered.
Hal had to assume his sternness with Rusty had only made matters
worse and now Claire was giving him the silent treatment, as if it
were his fault Rusty ran off. Women! He’d never figure them out. He
sat watching Guy wear the carpet thin; there was deep concern in
the man’s eyes and he watched a vein pulsate in his son’s neck. Guy
was worried; that was a good sign. Maybe, there was hope for a
happy ending.

Finally, his son stopped pacing and slammed
his fist into his palm. “Dammit! If she isn’t the most obstinate
female I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!” His son almost
strangled on his own words. “I’ll find that wildcat, and if I have
to, I’ll hog-tie her and bring her back with me! That’s if I don’t
choke her first!” He had to suppress a smile but lost it at Guy’s
next words.

“I’m going east to the miner’s camp. That’s
the only other place she could be.”

Hal wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve.
“Oh, son, I hope she didn’t go to Ottawa Bend. Those men in that
town would have her for breakfast and not think twice that she were
a mere child; they are a rowdy bunch. Though my friend Patrick, the
sheriff, does his best to keep the peace, if they come into town
after the rare times they hit a lucky vein, he couldn’t protect her
from them if they came upon her on the road.” He frowned. “Son, I
pray she had enough sense to stay away from there.”

“Sense! Ha! That girl doesn’t have a lick of
sense.” Guy knew that his laugh was transparent. “Hellfire! It
would be just like her to go there.” The thought made him sick and
his stomach tightened and bile rose in his throat. A myriad of
emotions flowed through him and he prayed she didn’t go in that
direction but he had to look and see for himself.

A few days later, he entered the jailhouse
seeing Patrick Elliott sitting behind his old desk with his feet
up, taking a mid-day siesta. The lawman’s lips flapped, making a
funny sound as he exhaled. His chin and jowls rested heavily on his
chest as an insect buzzed unnoticed around the man’s head. Guy
remembered meeting the sheriff once when his father delivered some
cattle to the small mining town. After Patrick had become sheriff
of this sad excuse for a town his father had sent a few steers as a
gift to his friend and family. But Patrick had aged badly and one
would never guess the two old friends were the same age. He grunted
and coughed to wake the snoring man and chuckled when Patrick’s
eyes opened to full attention. The sleepy man removed his boots,
worn with holes in the soles, from the desk and cleared his throat
with guilt for being caught napping.

“Can I help you, son?” Patrick asked.

He smiled and extended a friendly hand. “It’s
Guy Strong, Patrick.” He had taken the lawman by surprise and
Patrick blinked, not recognizing him. The last time the lawman saw
him, he was a skinny, overly tall kid.

“Guy?!” Somewhat groggy, he extended his
hand. “Damn, boy, give me a moment to clear the cobwebs from my
head.” The sheriff ran his hand down his face and said, “Well, my
boy, ya sure have grown. How’s the old man? And your mother? Is…is
she still as purty as I remember her? Err, ya pa’s a lucky man. Had
my sights on that….” Patrick dropped his hand along with the rest
of his sentence, and Guy could see the man was embarrassed at his
outburst of feelings. He dismissed the lawman’s rambling and sat
his tired body on the edge of the old desk, which creaked in
protest. “I’m looking for a pretty young lady; tall, with auburn
hair.”

Patrick shook his head. “Nope, can’t recall
seein’ anyone like that. I’d remember if I did. I’ll let ya know if
I do.” He scratched his head where his hair had thinned.

Guy talked a few more minute, answering the
sheriff’s questions about his father and family. He then said he
would search the town before getting a bath and shave. His search
proved fruitless. But at one saloon, his heart lurched when he
spied a red headed lady leaning over the bar. Because he wasn’t
thinking clearly, he went over to the bar and swung the lady around
with such force that the drink she was ordering for a customer
spilled all over the gentleman next to her. If he had been more
observant, he would have noticed the woman was too short to be
Rusty. It took a lot of fast talking and apologizing, not to
mention the cost of another drink to calm the two down.

The miner’s camp was another hour’s ride from
town. The sun was setting behind the mountain when Guy rode into
the dusty camp. As the men filed out of the mine shaft, he
questioned a few. No one had seen a pretty red headed girl, but
they all wished they had. One of the men, Willy Meager, invited him
to share some grub and a friendly game of poker. He could not
travel back to the ranch until dawn, so he accepted the invitation.
They dined on over-cooked beans, slightly stale but tasty bread,
and a small piece of the most delicious berry pie he ever sunk his
teeth into. He smacked his lips.

Willy must have seen the curious look his
eyes and said, “Big Betsy can sure make good pies.”

“Big Betsy?” Guy murmured.

“Yep, if’n’ it weren’t fer her, we’d all go
mighty hungry most of the time,” replied Willy. She’s got a cabin
on da outskirts of Ottawa Bend, the small town ya just come from.
She comes every morn with her wares. We pays her with gold dust,
but I say she’s gettin’ the less of the bargain, fer we don’t gives
her much. Don’t know why she doesn’t take her business to a
prosperous town,” Willy shrugged, “but glad she doesn’t.”