The Lover (9 page)

He pushed back his hat while his hard, dark eyes searched her face.

“And you didn't like it,” he said flatly.

“I didn't say that.”

He gave a disgusted snort. “You better start saying what you mean, Susanna, or I'm gone down the road. This is craziness.”

It struck her then how much she was hurting him.

“Acting like we're married to fool the men is one thing,” she said stiffly, “but in private, that's another thing entirely.”

“You've kissed me in private.”

“I know,” she said miserably, “but this is different.”

“Yeah,” he said sarcastically, “it is. I've never given flowers to a woman who said ‘Don't bring me any more flowers', instead of ‘Thank you, you are so thoughtful, Eagle Jack.'”

He glared at her harder.

“None of 'em ever said, ‘No, I won't marry you but thanks for the flowers,' either. I didn't bring you that bluebonnet as a proposal of a real marriage or anything like that, Susanna. You sure know how to insult a man.”

He was furious.
That
was how much she had hurt him.

“I
know
that,” she cried. “What I'm trying to say is…”

“Spit it out,” he interrupted. “I thought you didn't like to be slapped around—from what you said about Everett—so I thought you might
like
a flower.”

“I did! I do! What I mean is…” she began, but it was too late. He had figured it out for himself.

“All right, I remember,” he said, “you're scared of me because I'm
not
like Everett. Well, that's just too damn bad, Susanna. I am who I am, and you can just get over it or give me my pay.”

He kissed to his horse and galloped on ahead. When she caught up to him, he had cooled down but he would talk only about the lay of the land and the grass and the water and where they might bed down that night if no other herd had that bedground. He had drifted all over this country, he said. He knew it well.

But when she tried to get him to tell her more about his life as a drifter, he wouldn't. A terrible loneliness moved through her. She had done it now. They weren't even going to be friends any
more, and she'd built the wall she'd wanted between them.

Now that she'd done it, she hated the way it felt.

She also hated that she had hurt him so much over one small gesture he had made, which was a small flirtation to him, nothing more. She had overreacted by a mile.

Her cheeks flared even hotter, she was so embarrassed. Eagle Jack had known lots of women and she was only another one on the string to him.

But the trouble was that she didn't feel that same way about him. He was special to her and when the drive was done, she would never forget him. She already knew that without a doubt.

So it was best that he was hurt and mad at her and they'd be only business partners. That was for the best, by far.

 

But that evening, when Eagle Jack rode away right after supper, it tore a hole in Susanna's heart to see him leave. He told her good-bye as her good public husband but the look in his eyes was as dispassionate as it had been all day. She watched him out of sight, then turned to their supper guest, a rider who claimed to be out looking for strays from a herd already gone up the trail.

Susanna and Maynell agreed that he had the demeanor of a grub-line rider who didn't want a job, but she'd thought of testing him by offering
him one. They needed more help. Yet she didn't like the fellow. She didn't like much of anybody today, including herself. Especially herself. She didn't like for Eagle Jack to be so cool and businesslike, was the main problem. That was coloring her every minute and she had to learn to forget it.

“Did you see the little running mare yourself?” she asked the visitor. Her tone came out sharper than she'd intended.

Startled, he looked up from his coffee.

“No, ma'am. I done told your husband that. All I know is the Bar 20 crew was saying they've been winning money when they race her.”

“Did they tell you what color she is?”

“No, ma'am. They never said.”

Susanna sensed his relief as she turned away and left him. She knew he'd already told his stories, but she'd been helping Maynell and she hadn't heard the details. All she knew was that Eagle Jack had bolted his food and called to her to say he was going to see if the little running mare with the herd coming along behind them could possibly be Molly.

He'd called her Susanna, not any endearment. In private, he probably wouldn't even speak to her at all.

Now he was gone, the sun was sinking slowly to the close of the hottest day they'd had since last summer, and the sky was starting to flash with
lightning. There were heavy, dark clouds to the west. The cattle were restless. Maybe she should try to hire this man on, after all.

But just then he stood and threw his tin cup into the wreck pan. “Thanks for the grub, ma'am,” he said to Susanna. Then he looked at Maynell. “Ma'am,” he said, and tipped his hat to her.

“Sayin' thanks won't cut it around this camp,” she retorted. “Git over here and wash these dishes to pay for your supper like a visitor with any manners would already be doin'.”

Sheepishly, he did as he was told.

Susanna smiled to herself as she walked out toward the remuda. She might as well save her breath on the job offer. No way would a lazy man hire on with this outfit with Maynell cracking the whip.

She chose a fresh horse and saddled it. Eagle Jack's absence made her too restless to sit still and left a man missing from the herd. She would take his place and pray that the weather wouldn't cause the cattle to run.

At first, it was almost relaxing riding slowly around and around the herd. Marvin was riding in the other direction, and they passed each other each time they made a circle. Most of the cattle had lain down and, although some were bawling and moving around, Susanna had hopes they'd all go to sleep as soon as darkness fell. The air was
heavy and humid, though, and some of the clouds were getting heavier. It was raining to the north, she could tell.

She rode and listened to Marvin singing to the cattle and thought about Eagle Jack. Five miles to the herd behind them and five miles back would take a while. He had left camp on a fresh horse at a lope but he'd have to slow him to a trot part of the time or wear him out. Maybe he could ride Molly back. For his sake, she hoped so.

For her sake, she hoped so. Then maybe he'd get his mind on her cattle and not leave them when it was stormy weather. Ashard of fear sliced through her. He had accepted her offer so he could get out of jail and look for his stolen horse. He had come up the trail because he was keeping his word to her, yes, but also because his horse was rumored to be headed this way.

That race horse was probably the most important possession he had, probably the source of the money he'd withdrawn from the bank in Salado. So what did it mean if the horse he found tonight did prove to be Molly? Would he take her and leave Susanna and the herd?

If he did, who would blame him, after her rejection of the simple, friendly gesture of a flower? The embarrassment and chagrin were too much to deal with, yet again, so Susanna tore her thoughts away from that memory.

Surely he'd be back by midnight. Surely the storm wouldn't hit until then. But she knew she was fooling herself. It would storm within an hour or two, the clouds were moving so fast.

She watched the sky, which was stunningly beautiful, as if she could predict the exact minute trouble would start. Scattered shafts of sunlight were shining here and there in the dark gray and blue of the clouds. The paler yellow of the lightning cut through them, too, and thunder rumbled somewhere far off in the distance.

It was coming closer. She turned to look toward the sound, which seemed to be in the northern sky. Or in the cloud of dust rolling toward them from that direction.

A herd? Was an outfit up ahead on the trail losing their cattle? She stared, amazed, as the cloud came closer and closer, then she turned her mount and rode for camp. Whatever it was, it coming right at her cattle and she needed all hands if they were going to have a prayer of holding them.

She rode in at a high lope, yelling for them to get horseback, only to see that they'd already heard the noise and were running for their night horses, saddled and tied to the wagon wheels. Streaking back to the herd, she stood in her stirrups to get a better view and saw that the approaching trouble was in the form of horses, a bunch of wild horses who were running full out.

There was no time to wonder where they'd
come from or where they were going. They burst into the herd as if it weren't even there and ran through it without altering their course one bit. The cattle were already starting to move. Fast. They were running as soon as they got their feet under them, fleeing from danger as if they were one.

She made it to the south end of the herd and glimpsed Marvin coming, aiming to meet her, but she knew in a heartbeat there was no hope of turning them now. Could they have held them if she'd stayed with the herd? It was impossible to know, but probably not.

That was the last coherent thought she had, because from then on it was nothing but a race for survival. She and Marvin rode only to keep clear of the onrush. The cattle pressed them hard but their mounts kept the lead.

Susanna held on to her mount and tried to stay in the saddle. That was all. Just stay in the saddle and out from under the thousands of hooves trying to catch her. She rode as she'd never ridden in her life before.

Finally, when she was thinking only that she'd never be able to take a full, deep breath of air into her lungs again, the pace began to slow. Thank God, running was not a natural gait for cattle. Through the din, she could hear nothing but as she glanced to her left, where she'd last seen Marvin, she saw two distinct flashes. He was firing his
six-shooter into the air to try to turn the cattle. It hit her like a blow that she should be wearing hers also. From now on, she would.

The leaders did begin to turn to the right, Jimbo and one of Marvin's men appeared out of the dust to help, and gradually they pushed the herd around to head to the north again. When it was sure that they were all under control and there were men on both sides of the herd, Susanna slumped in the saddle and let herself take it all in.

Pride flowed through her with the overwhelming relief. She had done a man's work and she had ridden like a cowboy in spite of her fear. She had helped lead her herd and because of what she and Marvin had done, the cattle were mostly all still together, as far she could tell in the fading light.

She had gambled everything she had that she could take these cattle to Kansas. Now she knew that she could. She also knew she could have died here tonight.

 

Around midnight, when Eagle Jack rode back in, Susanna was sitting cross-legged on a saddle blanket outside her tent, smelling the fresh-washed world on the wind. It had rained, finally, but mostly the storm had passed over them dry.

He still had only the horse he rode out on. By the light of the fire, which was always kept going for coffee, she watched him unsaddle and take his mount out to the remuda. Then he strode toward
her as if he could see her sitting there in the dark shadows.

As he got closer she could tell that he did know she was there, even before he spoke. She couldn't have said how she knew it, but there was no doubt.

“So,” he said, “I hear you had a little run.”

His voice had lost its anger. Or at least most of it.

“How?”

“I stopped and talked to Rodney. He says they're ready for a rest now.”

“It was a bunch of horses that started them,” she said. “Looked like some mustangs running crazy.”

“Probably got separated from their main herd,” he said, and then, with a weary sigh, sat down beside her. He took off his hat, laid it on the grass, and stretched out full length, leaning on one elbow. Looking at her.

A thrill ran down her spine. It was a speculative look that spoke of far-reaching possibilities.

“Was the mare not yours?” she said.

“No. She couldn't hold a candle to Molly.”

“I'm sorry.”

He nodded.

Susanna swallowed hard and thought how to say what she needed to say.

“I'm sorry about something else, too,” she blurted. “I was rude about the flower.”

He just kept on watching her. Then he said, “What brought this on?”

“I could've been killed tonight,” she said. “I would've hated that to happen with your feelings hurt and you mad at me.”

He grinned. She could barely see his face in the sporadic light from the moon riding in and out of the clouds.

“I would've hated it, too,” he said. “I was arrogant, thinking I could give flowers to any woman I wanted.”

“It's all right,” she said.

“I'll get my blankets and sleep out with the men,” he said. “I'll tell them it's so we won't disturb you when they call me for night guard.”

Susanna felt a sudden deflation, as if all the air had gone out of her. But why? She didn't want him in her tent. She really didn't. This was what she'd been trying to accomplish this very morning, was it not?

“From now on, don't worry about anything more than keeping up appearances,” he said.

“I'm not,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I don't.”

The words hung in the air between them.

“Because,” he said, in a tone that assumed that wasn't the end of the conversation and they both knew it, “I was thinking about you tonight. I'll just wait for you to come to me.”

Surprise, no, shock, actually made her mute for a minute. Then anger stirred her tongue.

“Arrogant is right,” she said, bristling. “What makes you think I will?”

He smiled and the moon showed her the glint in his dark eyes.