Wyoming Wildfire (14 page)

“I’m not an armful for Burch or any other cowboy. As for finding someone who wants to snuggle up to my
sharp edges,
I wouldn’t marry any man I’ve seen in Wyoming if I had to go to my death this very minute.” She fled from the room, too angry to control herself.

“I dunk I spooked that filly right bad,” Lasso apologized. “I hope she’s not rope shy,” he said to Burch.

“I don’t think she likes the idea of wearing any man’s brand.”

“She’ll probably change her mind,” remarked Augusta, presenting Lasso with a cup of coffee strong enough to curl his hair. He took swallow.

“Hot damn” he uttered, “that’s just the way I like it.”

Chapter 10

After that, Lasso came to the ranch so often Sibyl wondered how anything ever got done at the Three Bars. “His outfit could steal him blind or spend their days in the bunkhouse, and he’d never know,” she complained to Burch after one particularly irksome visit. Burch was teaching her to use a rifle. The Elkhorn crew was due to leave for roundup in a week, and he didn’t want the women alone in the house with neither of them able to use firearms.

“Lasso knows he can depend on his men to do their work, or he wouldn’t be here,” said Burch, placing her hands on the barrel and trigger correctly.

“Do you think I could bribe them to loaf at least a little bit?” she asked, pausing in the act of aiming her weapon. “Maybe I should send over a case of whiskey.”

“You don’t like Lasso, do you?”

“It’s not Lasso, really, it’s Aunt Augusta.”

“What’s wrong with her? She seems fine to me.”

“That’s what I thought, too, but now I’m beginning to wonder. She’s doing all kinds of strange things.”

“Such as?”

“My aunt is scared to death of horses. She has been ever since she was a little girl. When we came out here, she would no more have thought of riding one than she would one of your steers, yet all this week Mr. Slaughter has been teaching her to drive a team and buckboard. Today I heard him tell her she was doing so well he was going to buy her a sidesaddle the next time he goes to Cheyenne.”

“So?”

“Aunt August didn’t say a word, nothing. She didn’t faint, she didn’t even look scared, she just acted like she hadn’t heard a word he said. And I don’t dunk she did. Half the time when I talk to her, she doesn’t even know I’m in the room, much less what I’ve said. I think her brain is paralyzed. That man has scared her so badly she does everything he says just like a helpless puppy.”

“I don’t think your aunt is helpless.”

“But you don’t know her. I do, and I’ve never seen her act like this. It worries me.”

“Sounds like you’re frustrated as well as worried. Why don’t you take some of it out on that target?” Burch stood directly behind Sibyl, leaning over her shoulder, his body nearly molded to hers, his hands her on hands, helping her adjust the rifle. At first it had been impossible for Sibyl to concentrate, and every shot had missed the target by a wide margin. It was only through sheer force of willpower that she was able to master her shaking knees and pounding heart enough to occasionally hit the target.

And today was no different from any other. By dint of great effort, she ignored his unsettling presence, raised the rifle, and took careful aim; her shoulder jerked painfully at the recoil throwing her body against his, but a small hole appeared just outside the bull’s-eye.

“Excellent. Been practicing?”

“No,” Sibyl answered, recovering her equilibrium. “I just pretended that was Lasso’s big nose. I think I hit him in the left eye.”

Burch laughed and took the rifle from her to reload. “Remind me to warn him before you develop a quick draw”

“I’ve told you I won’t touch one of those guns. It’s bad enough that I have to learn to use this rifle, like some creature in a traveling circus, but I will not let it be said that I ever wore a holster or drew a gun from my waist. My mother would turn over in her grave.”

“Your mother was never in the West or she’d understand.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she retorted as he replaced the rifle in hands. His powerful arms held her in a virtual embrace, and Sibyl wondered if she would ever be able to concentrate long enough on that damned rifle to learn to hit something with it.

She took another shot at the target and missed. Calm down, she told herself, nothing’s going to happen out here in the open. You’re safe. But was she sure she wanted to be?

“That’s what happens when you fire while you’re worked up,” Burch advised her. “Try again.” She forced her mind back to the task, relaxed a little, and hit the outside of the target.

“That’s better. Now tell me why I’m wrong about your mother.” She tried not to think of the feel of his muscled arms against her shoulder, the heat and smell of his nearness.

“I don’t think she much minded dying. Everything had changed so she could never get used to it. I don’t think she wanted to. Father had his research and his teaching, but mother had lost the world she treasured, the only kind of life she understood. As soon as I was old enough to take care of myself, she just gave up.”

“With your stubborn streak, I expected to hear that your mother ruled your father with an iron hand and was the terror of every erring village maid.”

“You don’t have to try to be nasty,” she said, standing away from him as far as she could in the circle of his arms. “You owe my stubborn streak to the obstinate, conceited stupidity of your own sex. Every man I ever knew was convinced that he knew more than any woman ever born. You all think you know what we like, what we want, and what will be good for us. Sometimes I get the impression you think just having one of you around should be enough to make us swoon with delight.” She fired without waiting for him to help her, and missed.

“Father or beaux?” he asked cryptically.

“Both,” she answered succinctly and fired a shot into the center of the bull’s-eye. “Moreton Swan & Company” she said triumphantly, and they both laughed, dissipating the tension.

“Do you have one for me?” he asked with a hint of more man casual interest. The tension was instantly recharged.

“I don’t let myself think about that, or I’d have killed you and Lasso days ago.”

“Am I so far beyond redemption?”

Would this man never stop torturing her? she wondered. He must be trying to drive her crazy, but she’d show him she was made of sterner stuff.

“If you’re not telling me that I don’t know anything about anything, and mat women should stay in the kitchen and keep their mouths shut, Lasso is promising me there’s still hope I can find some decent cowboy willing to snaffle me up and toss me into his saddle. Let me tell you what I’d do to anyone who dared try to throw me over his saddlebags, or anything else for that matter” she said, glaring meaningfully at him.

“I take it that includes anyone foolish enough to turn you across his knee.” The wistful quality in his voice almost destroyed her resolution.

“Especially
anyone who even threatens to turn me across his knee. It’s a good thing you hadn’t taught me to shoot then, or I’d be standing my trial for murder right now.”

“I think you’re in the proper frame of mind to see that no stray comes nosing about while we’re gone. If I stay away long enough, maybe you’ll forget about my knees.”

“No man has ever lived that long,” she replied sternly, determined to teach him a lesson, but Burch gave her such an enigmatic stare that she began to feel self-conscious.

“How long do you stay on a roundup?” she asked, changing the subject.

“It’s impossible to say for sure, but several weeks at the least.”

Several weeks! She’d only been thinking of a few days. Suddenly she didn’t care about teaching him any lessons. What good would it do if he were going to be gone forever?

“Why does it take so long?” she asked as calmly as one could.

“After we brand all the strays we can find that we missed in the spring, we have to cut out the steers intended for market. Things are liable to take longer this year because it’s especially important not to run off what little fat they have. I intend to take them to Chicago myself because I’ll get a better price than selling them to some agent at the railhead.”

“Does everyone go with you?” She didn’t know why she asked. He was leaving, and that was all that was important.

“No. Jesse and most of the crew will stay here to look after the herds. They’re in fair shape, but if we hadn’t built those dams to stop the creek flooding the ranch every time we had a storm, we’d have been out of water months ago and the cattle would be too weak to look for grass.”

“Where will you be if I have to find you?”

“I can’t tell you, not for any particular day, but I’ll leave you a map. We usually get together with several other outfits, but since we’re going early this year, it’s just Lasso and me.”

“He agrees with you?”

“Yes.” The magic evaporated. Neither had mentioned the argument since mat unfortunate night, but it had been a source of constant tension between them. Since then, every sentence had had to be searched for potentially dangerous words, an extremely wearing situation on Sibyl’s nerves. She had been unable to work off her anger by talking about it or to satisfy her curiosity about the roundup, so it was a relief to have it finally brought out in the open.

The defeat rankled, but Sibyl was quick to see that she could do nothing about it. She shrugged it off, determined that next time would be different.

“How can I follow a map? I don’t know the countryside.”

“Balaam can show you.” He broke off suddenly. The fancy buggy Lasso had bought in Casper turned the corner, and they both watched fascinated as Augusta drove the horse through the gate and turned it toward the hitching post.

“See what I mean,” Sibyl said, pointing to her aunt. Augusta sat rigidly upright, holding the reins correctly, but from her expression Burch guessed she expected to be flung to her death any moment. “She’s scared out of her mind,” Sibyl added unnecessarily.

“That’s the buckle,” applauded Lasso, bristling with pride. “I told you there was nothing to it for a smart gal like you. I expect you’ll soon be rearing to have a go at sulky racing if I was to let you do something so foolish.”

“Damn if that woman hasn’t got guts,” said Burch with admiration.

“Now pull back easy on the reins and bring them to a stop. That’s the ticket. Isn’t she the smartest thing you’ve ever seen at the reins?” he said, jumping down and turning to Burch.

“You’ve done a good job of teaching her.”

“Aw, it was no problem. Gussie can learn anything. This gal’s as sharp as a razor.”

“
Gussie?”
repeated Sibyl, unable to believe her ears. No one, not even her own sisters, had ever dared call her anything but Augusta. By constant battering, Sibyl had become accustomed to “little woman,” but when it came to referring to her straight-laced aunt as a
gal,
Sibyl’s mind boggled. Burch held the horse’s head while Lasso helped his inamorata down.

“She just can’t seem to get enough,” Lasso was saying. “First it was driving, and now it’s riding. I’ve got to get her a saddle mare first thing tomorrow.” The most thorough scrutiny of Augusta’s face revealed no sign of emotion; it was devoid of color and the features set as though cast in bronze.

“Don’t you think you might wait until after the roundup?” suggested Burch.

“I wouldn’t dare. Gussie’d be plumb disappointed to put off throwing a leg over her first horse that long.”

“Throwing a leg over”
gasped Sibyl as Augusta blanched visibly. Burch had grown to be quite fond of Augusta, and he decided it was time someone came to her aid before Lasso killed her with his boundless admiration.

“I’d wait if I were you. We’ll be going off in a few days and that’ll mean you’ll have to stop right in the middle of the business. And you know how things go sour when you get started and then have to quit.” He led the horse to the shed, where both men began to unharness it while the ladies headed for the house. “Who knows, she might get so excited she won’t wait for you to come back and finish teaching her properly.”

“I guess maybe you’re right,” Lasso answered thoughtfully, “but I know she’ll be disappointed.”

“Not as disappointed as she would be if you were to have to stop before you were done. If she takes that horse out by herself, before she’s really mastered the thing, there’s no telling what kind of trouble she might get into.”

“You’re right,” said Lasso, struck. “It’s best to wait. I just hope it won’t make her too downcast. But the first day we’re back, I’m heading straight over with that mare.”

“I was sure you would,” smiled Burch.

“Aunt Augusta, you’re crazy to let that man put you behind a horse when you know you’re scared to death of them,” Sibyl said to her shaken aunt as soon as they stepped inside the house.

Augusta looked as though it would be hours, maybe days before she could regain anything like a semblance of her normal demeanor, but she astounded her niece by replying in a steady voice, “I found it quite exhilarating. I begin to think that I have led a sadly humdrum existence up until now.” She went away to change her clothes, leaving her niece bereft of speech.