Dusty Britches (12 page)

Becca squealed with delight. Dusty wanted to enjoy the
merriment,
but the danger of it
all
was still
far
too apparent.

“
I knew she couldn
’
t best you, Ryder,
”
Becca giggled.

“
No, ma
’
am,
”
he answered with a smile.

“
You all are
actin’ like a bunch of children,”
Dusty grumbled as she turned to walk away. Her attempt at departure was short
-
lived. The tug at her waist indicated
,
without question
,
that Ryder still held her by the skirt. Slapping awkwardly at his hand, she turned to find him grinning mischievously down at her.

“
Let go!
”
she demanded.

“
Can
’
t,
”
he tease
d. “That cow scared the tar outt
a me
,
and I can
’
t unclench my fist.
”

“
Let me go,
”
she snapped.

With a disapproving and disgusted frown, he growled,
“Ease
up, Miss Hunter.
”

“
Grow up, Mr. Maddox,
” she spat at him, yanking her skirt waist
from his grasp and storming back toward the house.

“
She ain
’
t nothin
’
like I remember her,
”
Ryder mumbled.

“
Yes, she is,
”
Becca assured him.
“
She
’
s just
—
just lost. That
’
s all. She
’
s lost herself.
”
Becca paused and then said,
“
You can find her.
”

Ryder smiled affectionately
,
cupping Becca
’
s cheek with his hand.
“
You can
’
t help nobody home if you ain
’
t there yourself, sweet thing,
”
he said solemnly. He turned and jumped the fence again. Guthrie had brought in another heifer; there was work to do.

As she reached the back porch, Dusty turned to look back. Already she was regretting her lack of lightheartedness, but when she turned to see Ryder looking down adoringly at Becca, his hand affectionately on her cheek, all regret hardened into stone. Oh, how well she remembered the effect Ryder had on girls and women! Every female in the county used to
take to swooning
when he walked by
.
They used to rain pies and cakes on him, trying, no doubt, to impress
him with their culinary prowess—
to remind him that a good cook made a good wife.

She wouldn
’
t care that he was back
.
Truly! All an interest in Ryder Maddox gave a person was grief. She
’
d learned that. She didn
’
t need to learn it again. And thus, as was the case anytime Dusty foun
d herself in a fit of weakness—
almost becoming a cari
ng, loving, normal woman again—
she dug up the hurt and resentment that had kept her sane since Cash Richardson entered and exited her life. She could be nicer to her sister, kinder to her father, but she would not soften up where Ryder Maddox was concerned.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Dusty kept herself busy with hard work. She quickly finished her outside chores and then moved into the house. She worked furiously even though the house
didn’t
need such fiery attention.
The lunch hour arrived far too soon. She didn
’
t realize how occupied she
’
d kept herself until she heard the men filing in for their meal. Since Becca took care of the noon meal, Dusty had
kept
right on working. She soon heard the deep voices of
men raised in conversation—
her father calling her to join them.

Upon entering the kitchen, her gaze fell
to Ryder—
though she had sworn to herself to ignore him. He smiled and nodded. She nodded
in return
without cracking even a polite grin. She became angry, for at the mere sight of him, her heart fluttered
,
and her stomach seemed to flip
,
stirring up a sensation of elation she hadn
’
t felt for years
.
Stop it!
she thought. But then Ryder picked up his fork, sp
inning
it around in his fingers twice
,
as had always been his manner before plunging into his meal. The familiarity of the habit further fed the response of warm melancholy in Dusty
,
and she winced.

“These here boys got the
whole herd branded
’
fore lunch, girls!
”
Hank boasted.
“
Whatcha say to that?
”

Dusty stood silent. Becca jumped in to fill the obvious void.
“
Was there ever any doubt about it?
”

“
Nope! Don
’
t suppose there was,
”
her father chuckled.
“
I forgot to ask y
a
, Dusty,
”
he began,
“
did ol
’
Leroy come by while I was away
to pick up
that beef I offered him?
”

“Um
…
”
Dusty stammered. Ryder again captured her gaze, winking and causing her to lose her train of thought.
“
Um…yes. Yes, he did. He said to thank you kindly
,
and he left off a couple of hams in exchange.
”
She looked away quickly
.
Becca star
ed
at her
with a knowing smile
.
Dusty
frowned at her sister and went about fixing herself a plate of food.

“
Now, I told that old boy
he didn’t need to do anythin’
in return
,”
Hank grumbled.

“
You know how ol
’
Leroy is, Daddy,
”
Dusty reminded him, sitting down at the small drop
leaf
nearby. “He won’t take anythin’
without a swap.
”

“
Ol
’
Leroy
’
s a fine feller,
”
Ruff commented.

“
Yep,
”
Feller agreed.
“
Ol
’
Leroy gave me my first horse.
”

“
Really?
”
Becca asked.

“
Yep. I was eight years old and worked for him all summer one year a
-
helpin
’
to butcher hogs. He gave me a little bay mare and paid me a right good wage on
top of it too.”
Feller paused to chew and swallow a bite of food.

“
I can see that,
”
Ryder mumbled.

“
Yeah,
”
Feller agreed.
“
He
’
s a good ol
’
boy.
”

“
Well, that he is…but I mean
t
I can see you at eight a
-
ridin
’
the range, causin
’
trouble and givin
’
your mama fits.
”

Everyone chuckled. Hank reached over and tousled Feller
’
s hair affectionately.

“
Now, go on,
”
Feller grumbled, completely embarrassed.

“
I
’
member that bay,
”
Hank sighed.
“
You rode that poor ol
’
girl into the ground near to every day.
”
Everyone ate and waited for the boss to continue telling tales on the top hand
—
who was so often serious and solemn.
“
What was her name?
”

“
Daisy,
”
Feller mumbled.

“
Yep, Daisy. You and ol
’
Daisy really used to tear up the town!
”
Dusty watched her father chuckle, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes born
e
of
so many years of merry living—so familiar—so
endearing.

“
Come on now, boss,
”
Ryder coaxed.
“
Give us a tale on ol
’
Feller here!
”

“Ain’t no tales to tell, boys,”
Feller said, smiling and shaking his head.

“
You
’
member the time you was playin
’
Paul Revere and got the tale mixed up with that Lady Godiva story?
”
Dusty
’
s father offered.

Feller immediately began shaking his head as Ryder asked,
“
Ain
’
t that the woman rode through town buck naked
’
cause…
”

“
Ol
’
Feller…he comes a
-
ridin
’
through town one Saturday night
.”
Hank paused to swallow a bite of food. No doubt he feared choking were he to
start into chuckling
as he told the story.

“
Oh, for Pete
’
s sake,
”
Feller grum
bled. “No need to bring that up.”

“
What, Daddy? Tell us!
”
Becca demanded
. She was
entirely intrigued and delighted
.

“
Hold on! I heard this one!
”
Ruff interjected.
“
You mean to be tellin
’
me that it was Feller done that?
”

Hank chuckled and nodded.
“
There we all were
,
all us cowhands
. L
et
’
s see, I was…oh,
’
bout nineteen
,
I suppose
. B
een cowboyin
’
for a rancher in the county
. A
nyhow, there we all w
as,
a
-
sittin
’
out on the porch in front of the old general store…and here come Daisy! She
’
s a
-
trottin
’
down the middle a town like nobody
’
s business…and sittin
’
there as tall in the saddle as an eight-year-old boy can…was Feller Lance, buck n
e
ked as the day he was born and a
-
hollerin
’
,
‘
The
r
ed
c
oats
is
comin
’
! The
r
ed
c
oats
is
comin
’
!
’
 
”

Becca and the men burst into laughter
,
and even Dusty couldn
’
t restrain
a
smile. She
glanced
at Ryder, who was looking at Feller as he laughe
d. Ryder always drew people out—alway
s got her father to talking and telling stories somehow. He made people feel important. He made them feel happy. Except for her, she reminded herself
. She was beginning
to feel too warm and cheered within. He wouldn
’
t pull it on her!
No, indeed!