Wyoming Wildfire (33 page)
Authors: Leigh Greenwood
“I wouldn’t,” agreed one of the contestants who had finally reached the finish line. “There’s no power this side of the Devil that could make me put a horse to that ditch. But I don’t see any reason why somebody else shouldn’t, if they’re willing to risk it.”
“But it wasn’t in the rules,” insisted Emma. “I would have jumped it too if I’d thought we could. All it takes is a good horse,” she said, sneering at Hospitality.
“She’s right,” agreed Sibyl, too happy at being in Burch’s arms to care about the race. “I
did
leave the course. If you’ll cancel our bet, I’ll withdraw from the race. Then no one will have to throw me out.”
Emma was overjoyed at the success of her protest but mystified to find that no one was particularly anxious to declare her the winner. Certainly no one picked her up in a crushing embrace.
“We’d better start the calf roping, or it’ll soon be too dark,” someone said.
“You coming?” Burch asked Sibyl.
“I don’t think so. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, and everybody’s going to be starved the minute the last calf hits the ground. Aunt and I had the best see that everything’s ready.”
“I’m competing.” He clearly wanted her to be there.
“Well, maybe, but I’ve got to see about dinner first,” Sibyl vacillated, knowing she’d be there whether anyone ate that night or not. Everyone moved off in the direction of the corrals, leaving Emma to savor an uncelebrated victory no one cared she’d won. The hard look of furious hatred made her brother anxious to get out of her way. He knew what his sister was like when she didn’t get what she wanted, and he felt sorry for that pretty little Eastern girl.
The party had been in full swing for more than three hours, and still it didn’t show the slightest sign of slowing down. Sibyl had never seen such hard-drinking, hard-playing people in her life and wondered if anyone would be left standing when the dancing began. Even now the fiddles were warming up and the caller was exercising his throat with combinations of “swing your partner” and “do-si-do.” The ladies, not exactly teetotalers but imbibing less heavily than the men, were anxiously awaiting this part of the evening. For a lucky few, it had been wonderful to eat food they hadn’t worked to prepare and a slice of pure heaven to get up without having to worry about the dishes, pots, or pans, but still the high point of the evening was the dancing and the chance to show off their steps and stockings if their partner could swing them hard enough.
Sibyl’s eyes instinctively found Burch, his head showing above all the rest, and her gaze hardened. Since the race, Emma had attached herself to him as though she were a part of him. Even one of the female guests had been moved to comment, “A man’s underdrawers don’t stick to him as tight as that woman sticks to Burch.” Emma was constantly at his side, answering for him, interrupting others to bring Burch’s attention back to herself, or simply talking so much everybody gave up trying to get a word in edgewise.
“You’d think she’d have sense enough to know you can’t get a man like Burch by trying to corral him.”
“Seems more like a bludgeoning if you ask me,” remarked another young woman. “But then she probably thinks she’s giving him a treat.”
The fiddlers began scraping and everyone scrambled to find partners for the first dance. Emma, standing expectantly at Burch’s side, was left furious and humiliated before the snickering women when he excused himself.
“The first dance always goes to the hostess. Lasso, get your hands off that woman,” Burch called as his friend was about to lead Augusta to the floor. “She’s mine. You drag Sibyl out here and we’ll exchange for the next dance.”
“Surely, with all these other young ladies present, you don’t want to be tied to me.”
“There’s nobody here that’s younger than you,
Miss
Haux-hurst, so let’s hear no more of that. The way you won that race from start to finish has me completely dazzled.”
“Stop that, or you’ll have me blushing so Lasso will think you’re telling me improper stories.”
“You think a lot of his opinion, do you?” Burch asked suddenly serious.
“Yes, I do,” Augusta answered simply.
“You won’t find a better man,” asserted Burch, swinging Augusta off the ground and so ruthlessly through the dance that she came off the floor breathless and was of two minds as to whether to ask Lasso to let her sit out the next one. But after Lasso handed Sibyl over to Burch, he put his arms around Augusta in a way that sent strength surging through her limbs, and she never again thought of sitting down.
“At last,” Burch said, leading Sibyl to the floor. “I thought I was never going to get to even speak to you.”
“You’d better say everything you want to during this waltz,” Sibyl advised him, glancing over her shoulder at the smoldering Emma, who was forcing her embarrassed partner to follow in Burch’s wake. “I have the feeling that once she gets hold of you, it’ll be impossible to shake Miss Stratton for the rest of the night.”
“I like Emma, but it’s pretty damned tiring to spend every blessed minute talking to the same person for three days. Even if it is about ranching.”
“But I thought you never got your mind off the Elkhorn, that it was the only thing in your life that mattered,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. Why was she exposing herself so? Was she so desperate for this man that she had to lay herself open for his insults?
“That may have been true at one time, but not any more. Your Aunt Augusta has shown me there’s more to life than a ranch and cows.”
“Aunt Augusta!” exclaimed Sibyl, too surprised to keep her voice down.
“Did you want me, dear?” Augusta called, too lost in her own world to be of use to anyone.
“No, she changed her mind,” said Burch, and the two of them giggled like little children. Sibyl’s spirits skyrocketed so swiftly that she felt dizzy.
“What do you mean by saying Aunt Augusta changed you?” Sibyl asked in a lower voice.
“I saw in her what you would be if you weren’t so distrustful of people—men especially, me in particular.”
Sibyl stiffened.
“You’re both of the same family and background, yet your aunt is at peace with everybody, while you’re at war. I can still see you the first morning you fixed breakfast, your hair up, flour all over, humming some tune, and perfectly content with what you were doing. Just like Augusta does all the time. I knew right then that inside that harridan I met at the river was a girl with the spirit and courage of the spitfire, as well as the inner strength and beauty of her aunt. The only problem was to figure out how to find it.”
Sibyl made some inarticulate noise that sounded like a sniff and accepted the use of Burch’s handkerchief gratefully.
“I didn’t even know how to start, and what with you arguing and disputing nearly every word that came out of my mouth, I had all I could do to keep from saying things you’d never forget. But I figured if you didn’t learn to trust me, you wouldn’t ever trust anybody. And after that first night, I knew if I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anybody else. It was sort of a desperate situation for both of us, because you said some things that are pretty hard for a man to swallow.”
“I know,” admitted Sibyl, wanting so much to dissolve into his arms, “and I was sorry for them, but I couldn’t tell you. I was afraid you would think I was weak, and I was determined to make you admit that I was just as good as any man.”
“After today, everybody knows you have more courage than nine out of ten men,” Burch told her proudly. “Your haystacks proved your brains and this house your domestic skills. What other fields are you set to conquer?”
Sibyl itched to tell him that the only field that mattered was his heart, but she couldn’t, not in front of so many people. She wasn’t sure she could tell him at all. She was getting used to her vulnerability, but it still scared her.
“I don’t think I’ll tell you,” she said shyly. “Besides, here comes Emma and determination is written all over her.”
Burch grimaced slightly. “I know I’m supposed to be nice to my guests, especially old friends, but this one is getting a little tiresome.”
“Then dance with the other ladies. They’d love it and I’m sure they can think of something to talk about other than how much fun it would be for everybody if you were to decide to spend the winter in Cheyenne.”
“And leave you prey to all these marauding cowboys who have tasted your cooking and seen you ride? That’s not taking good care of my belongings.”
“I’m not one of your belongings, Burch Randall, and don’t you go dunking it.”
“Is that a challenge?” he responded with a swift surge of passion.
“No,” she said hurriedly, afraid to trust her own response. “Now go ask Sue Ellen to dance before Emma pounces on you.”
She didn’t get a chance to exchange more than a few words with Burch during the rest of the evening, but he took her advice and danced with every woman and girl in the place, much to their delight and the merriment of the onlookers. He even did a polka with a wizened little grandmother, who retired to her chair breathless, red in the face, and feeling at least a decade younger than she had in years.
“If I was fifty years younger, you young scamp, I’d give that Stratton gal a run for her money.”
“If you were fifty years younger, I’d let myself get caught,” Burch said, giving her a hearty kiss.
“Fine-looking young man,” the old gal was heard to murmur several times during the course of the evening. “He’s got a great backside on him, too.”
“Grandma,” exclaimed her scandalized granddaughter, ineffectually smothering a giggle. “You know you shouldn’t talk like that.”
“Why not? You don’t think they don’t discuss us piece by piece, do you? And I’ll lay you odds that Stratton gal don’t come off very good when compared against that cousin of Burch’s. Against either one of them Eastern gals, from what I can see.” The young woman finally succeeded in halting her grandparent’s embarrassing comments but could hardly wait to whisper them into Emma’s ear later in the evening. Emma reply was pungent and not in the least polite.
At two o’clock, the party was still going strong. Augusta and some of the older women had already retired to bed, but the younger women and the men were looking like they would make a night of it. Sibyl had had a long, exhausting day and was tired. The emotional strain of wondering if Burch’s affections were being breached by Emma Stratton had taken a terrible toll on her energies, but hardly more than her jump over the canyon. Every time she thought of what might have happened, she started to shake. How could she have done anything so incredibly insane? She pushed it from her mind, only to have it come back. Watching Emma pursue Burch relentlessly throughout the evening had sapped the rest of her energies, even though the looks of resignation Burch cast her over Emma’s shoulder did much to support Sibyl’s sagging spirits. She would have given anything for one little hug, but anyone could see that if Burch attempted to put his arms around Sibyl, he was going to have to put them around Emma as well.
Sibyl met Burch coming off the dance floor with Emma for at least the tenth time. “I’m going to bed,” she told him, fatigue clear in her voice.
“But it’s still early,” objected Emma.
“There’s a lot to be done tomorrow, and I can’t afford to sleep late” Sibyl replied caustically, unable to resist a dig.
“I
never
sleep late,” declared the indomitable Emma. “Morning is my favorite part of the day.”
“Well, it’s not mine, but it always seems to come first so there’s nothing to be done but face it,” said Sibyl, resigned to saying good night to Burch in front of Emma. “Make sure all the fires and lamps are out before you come up,” Sibyl reminded Burch.
“How did you ever survive without her?” Emma smirked.
“Not nearly as comfortably as he does now” snapped Sibyl bitterly as she spun on her heel. Try as she might, she could not like Emma Stratton. And she didn’t try very hard any more.
Next morning, Sibyl was in low spirits. Most of her guests were indulging in a rare morning spent in bed, but the mothers of small children were up and Sibyl saw that they had breakfast for their youngsters, who had gone to bed early the previous evening and were now anxious to get out and enjoy what promised to be another beautiful day. She spoke pleasantly to the women and discussed such little things as Melissa’s teeth and Joey’s boils, but she was conscious of a desire to have all her guests gone from the Elkhorn.
She was tired of tending to everyone’s needs and having to ignore her own. She was tired of having to share Burch with strangers and finding nothing left for herself. It didn’t help to know that Burch didn’t love Emma when it was Emma who was in his arms instead of Sibyl:
She
was tied up all evening slicing cake and seeing that the beer didn’t run out;
she
went to bed early, leaving them alone to do heavens only knew what;
she
was forced to trust Burch to resist the temptation Emma was all too ready to toss his way. More than once Sibyl longed to slap that pouting red mouth and claw at those drooping eyelids until every shred of superiority was erased from Emma’s smirking face. Her constant needling was so hard to endure that Sibyl had tried to stay out of her way, but that meant she had stayed away from Burch as well. If it was better for her to see less of Emma, it was much worse to see so little of Burch.
