by Brenda Joyce
"That's fine," Lucy said enthusiastically. She had always wanted to own an automobile! And she never quibbled over prices. Besides, a thousand dollars for a brand-new motorcar sounded right to her. Hadn't the salesman explained that it had an electric ignition as well as a one-cylinder gasoline-driven engine? And it had four wheels, not three, like some of the new automobiles.
"You're crazy!" Joanna cried, but she was regarding the shiny automobile with awe.
Lucy was flushed with excitement. She imagined herself and Joanna driving into Paradise in the splendid black roadster. Two young women in the beautiful new car. . . What a stir they would create! What a sensation! Lucy liked doing things with aplomb.
She turned to the salesman. "I will give you five hundred cash. I have an unlimited line of credit at Paradise Bank. They will wire you the rest, I assure you."
The salesman blinked. "Look, ma'am, I can't do that, I don't know who you are!"
"My name is Lucy Bragg." The man's eyes widened. Bragg was the name in these parts, and Lucy didn't have to continue, but she did. "My daddy is the industrialist Rathe Bragg, and he owns the bank. My grandpa is Derek Bragg, and he owns the DM, the DM Railroad, and probably the rest of Paradise and half of West Texas, too. I assure you, you will not be cheated."
Sometime later, after all arrangements had been completed and the dealer had given them a few brief instructions and traveling directions, he left Lucy and Joanna standing with the road car in the dusty yard in the blazing sun.
It was so hot. Lucy pulled an immaculate white linen handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her face, wishing she could swish it between her breasts. Paradise was at least a two-day ride—or drive—from San Antonio, Lucy thought. She hadn't mentioned that fact to Joanna. As she and Joanna circled the car, Joanna asked, "Now what?"
"We get in and go."
"Lucy, I didn't want to bring this up, but you don't know how to drive this thing."
"Pooh! Of course I do, it's easy; any idiot can see that! Come on, get in!"
With no small amount of pandemonium, they hauled their luggage and filled up the roadster's tiny backseat. Both girls were huffing and sweating. Lucy wanted to remove her hat, but didn't dare, for it would ruin her fashionable appearance, and her skin was ivory white—the bane of a redhead's existence. They climbed in, tucking their skirts around them. Unfortunately, or fortunately, nothing happened.
"Lucy," Joanna began hesitantly. Lucy understood.
"Great balls of fire!" she cried, using a favorite new expression that she had picked up from her Harvard beau, Leon. She climbed out, dragging her sumptuous skirts with her. She was dying to remove her perfectly fitted, velvet-lapeled jacket. It was so hot and wet.
She grabbed the crank. "I'll turn it, and when it catches, pump the gas pedal, just a little bit."
Panting, Lucy worked the crank until the auto started up.
"Told you this was easy!" Lucy cried, straightening her back with a wince. She clambered back into the Duryea. She'd watched many of her beaux drive. It had always looked like such fun. She stomped on the gas. The car shot forward and slammed into the wooden corner post of the dealer's brick store.
"Oh, damn!"
"Lucy!"
They were simultaneous wails. Lucy stumbled out, thoroughly flushed now. "Are you all right?" she cried, barely able to believe they'd gotten off to such a start. Joanna assured her she was, although she was quite white, and shaking. Lucy inspected the car. The dealer and the three salesmen also came running out, the dealer screaming incoherently because they'd somehow cracked the big display window. Lucy ignored him, worriedly regarding the automobile's front fender. Miraculously, mere were only a few scratches—and one perfectly round, melon-sized dent. "Why didn't you turn!" Joanna cried.
"I didn't have time," Lucy explained, rubbing one of the scratches as if she might erase it.
Joanna consoled her. "You can always buy another motorcar."
Lucy gave her a look.' T just spent my entire allowance— and then some."
Lucy gave the dealer another hundred dollars, along with a bright smile, and they were on their way. Joanna said nothing, even though she knew Lucy had overpaid the dealer for the damage they'd done to his window.
They drove down the road at ten miles an hour. It was wonderful, despite the heat and the humidity; they actually caught a small, hot breeze. Lucy sighed, relieved to be finally on the road. She would never admit it, but she was a bit shaken from the accident. However, she was sure the rest of their trip would pass without incident.
Lucy decided to forgo her original intention of driving down Main Street. Traffic was often heavy in the city, a few roadsters, many horses, riders and carriages, and many business conveyances, wagons, buses, and the like. Sometimes there were even cattle, a hangover from days gone by. She had learned her limitations, and would stick to the relatively quiet open roads leaving town. An hour later, they had left the last residential homes behind them. It was blazing hot.
"The train was cooler," Joanna said quietly.
Lucy didn't answer. The train had been cooler.
The car was bouncing over each rut and hole in the road, and they hadn't seen another rider or carriage in ages. Lucy's backside was already sore, her back stiff and aching. Why was the road so quiet? The hills around them were dry and yellow from the summer sun. Stunted trees dotted the landscape. Not a cloud marred the sky. Above them, buzzards circled, and Lucy didn't want to know what they were scavenging. So it wasn't exactly like a picnic in Oyster Bay, she thought, but it was still an adventure.
"I wonder if these roads are always so quiet," Joanna remarked uneasily.
"Of course they are," Lucy said cheerfully, hiding her own unease. "Joanna, what time did we leave San Antonio?"
"At two," she said, automatically looking at her eighteen-carat pocket watch. "It's almost four-thirty."
It didn't seem like they had been driving for two and a half hours. It seemed like they had been driving for ten hours. Lucy was starting to have doubts, which she refused to entertain. "See how the time just races by! Before you know it, we'll be in Paradise!"
Joanna just looked at her.
Lucy could see that they were approaching a man on foot. Instantly worry arose. A man on foot this far from the city? They were in the middle of nowhere! It became evident that he was carrying a saddle, but she did not relax. Because of the depression, there were too many tramps around these days, even armies of violent unemployed drifters. It was only last year that "Coxey's army" had marched on Washington. Caution and determination won the moment. In order to give the man a wide berth, Lucy steered the car carefully to the other side of the road, and landed hard in a pothole. The car bounced rigidly and Joanna groaned. Lucy darted a glance at the man. He wore faded, formfitting Levis, boots, a bashed Stetson, and an unbuttoned shirt, hanging open. He had been looking over his shoulder; now he stopped to watch them approach. Lucy told herself she was ridiculous for suddenly feeling afraid. She wished the Duryea would go faster.
"Lucy," Joanna whispered, staring at the stranger. "He wants a ride."
Lucy saw, with a sinking sensation, that he was thumbing for a lift. "I will not stop."
"Don't! He looks dangerous!"
Lucy hushed Joanna as they were drawing alongside, because she didn't want him to overhear. Of course, inwardly she agreed with Joanna and even condemned him as a thief, or worse. However, sensing Joanna's real and rising fear, she whispered, "Don't be silly, he just needs a bath. He's probably a cowboy from one of the ranches around here." She caught a glimpse of tightly clad thighs and hips and a bronze, slick torso, and then they were past.
Lucy let out a breath. There was something menacing even in the man's stance.
Fifteen minutes later, Joanna cried out, "Lucy! Watch out!"
Lucy had been admiring a roadrunner darting into the shade of some brush. She jerked her eyes to the road just as the automobile crashed hard into a huge hole, jamming both girls up agai
nst the dashboard. A few yards later, a slapping, irregular noise signaled that this time they had done some damage to the auto. Lucy could feel that something was dragging on the ground. She stopped the car and slumped at the wheel. "Oh, damn," she whispered.
It was so hot and they had been driving forever and there was not a house in sight and how could she have been so stupid to think up this whole scheme? "Please just stop and think before you act, Lucy," she could hear her mother saying.
Lucy took a deep breath, managed a smile for Joanna's benefit, and climbed out of the cab. She looked at the car and noticed that it was sagging on the right in front. Something was surely wrong, but what? And even if she could find out what, how was she going to fix it? She circled the car. The other side seemed fine, upright, except for the scratches and the dent. She came back to the driver's side and saw again how the chassis sagged over the big spoked wheel. "Something's broken," she said, trying not to sound despondent.
"Lucy, what are we going to do?"
"I don't know."
Lucy stared at the car for a few minutes, thinking. She immediately ruled out walking. They were two young women, unchaperoned and unprotected, dressed in their eastern finery. Impossible! Even if they escaped mishap, should they somehow arrive at the DM safely, her father would kill her once he found out. And never trust her again. It was one thing to travel by rail or auto, another to travel alone on foot. And besides, what about all their luggage? How could they leave behind all their clothing for their holiday? By the time Grandpa Derek sent someone to fetch their things, undoubtedly they would be stolen.
"Damn," Lucy said fervently.
She would have to fix the car herself.
Determined, Lucy began taking the pins out from her hat. She was horrified when she saw that dead bugs had accumulated on it, and went crimson thinking of how she had looked to the cowboy they had just passed. She threw it aside.
Her head gleamed like golden fire in the sunlight. Her chignon had become loosened, and tendrils were spilling around her face. It was a face that captivated and mesmerized men everywhere.
She was more than beautiful. Her face was classic—oval shaped with high cheekbones. Her eyes were big and sapphire blue. Her lashes were a dark gold, like her brows, startling against the pale ivory of her skin. Her complexion was flawless. Her nose was small and straight except for a slight tilt at its tip. Her mouth was lush and full and coral— too lush, too full, for it drove men crazy.
Lucy dropped to her knees and peered under the car's carriage. It was dark and she couldn't see anything. On her hands she crawled forward, straining to see. Joanna started giggling.
Angrily Lucy raised her head and slammed it into the car. "Ow!"
"You looked so funny, with your fanny in the air like that! If Leon could see you now!"
Lucy sat on her haunches in the dirt, mad, her head throbbing. Then her gaze widened and she stared.
He stared back.
Her breath caught. She hadn!t heard him approaching, and he stood so close, she could see, for the first time, his face beneath the battered cowboy hat. It was roughly chiseled, stark, completely masculine. His skin was dark bronze, and his eyes were so light that they seemed silver. The contrast was stunning. She was ensnared in the hot light of his eyes for a long moment.
The corner of his lip curled up unpleasantly. Lucy didn't move. She couldn't. Joanna was stock-still, too. But he never looked at her. His gaze released Lucy's eyes and slid down her face to her mouth. There it paused, and Lucy's heart began slamming wildly in her chest.
His gaze slid lower lazily. No man had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her. He eyed her full breasts, straining against the confines of her traveling suit, the jacket opened now. It slipped quickly down her to her dainty pearl-buttoned shoes, then back up. He hefted his saddle up to his shoulder and started walking on.
He was leaving them.
Lucy was so stunned, she blinked.
"Maybe he can help us," Joanna whispered urgently.
Lucy was staring at his masculine swagger. That very thought was also occurring to her. "Or maybe he'll kill us," she whispered back. "Or—worse."
She suddenly realized that he might have heard her, and she flushed. But if he did, he never broke stride. Rapidly she weighed her choices. He was a tramp, or worse, there was no doubt about that. Still, he hadn't hurt them ...
She leapt up. "Wait! Mister, wait!"
Chapter 2
He didn't stop, or even slow down. He just kept walking away as if he hadn't even heard her.
Lucy was shocked. No man had ever ignored her before. Amazed, then with a rush of determination, she lifted her skirts and stumbled after him. "Wait! Mister! Sir!"
That stopped him. He turned, thrusting out one hard hip and resting his saddle upon it. He waited.
Lucy paused when she was still a good distance from him. There was no expression on his face. Nothing. And the way his hips were cocked, so arrogantly... Frowning, Lucy came forward so she would not have to shout, but remained far enough away to dodge him if need be.' 'Excuse me." She tried out a brilliant smile, but there was no response.
"Do you think you might be able to help us?" He stared.
When he did not respond, she grew uncomfortable and began to have serious doubts about approaching this rough-looking drifter for help. The way he was branding her with his gaze made her shift uneasily. There was no one around for miles, except for Joanna, and Lucy could not help but be aware of the two of them face-to-face and alone, in the overwhelming space of the Texas desert, which stretched as far as the eye could see. It made the situation disturbingly intimate.
They needed his help. Lucy took a breath and smiled charmingly. It never failed with the opposite sex. "Our roadster has broken down, as you can see. We can't leave it, because of all of our luggage. I haven't the faintest idea what to do!" She gave him an appealing, helpless look. "Do you know anything about autos—sir?" "Not a thing."
She hadn't expected that short, flat response. In truth, she hadn't really crossed paths with his sort before and therefore didn't know what to expect. The social circles in which she traveled were very exclusive. As a little girl, she had attended some rallies for workers, and had even gotten caught up in a strike, but she could barely remember those events. Despite the man's station in life, whatever it might be, Lucy had anticipated a certain amount of chivalry from him. She stepped back in surprise.
His eyes blazed briefly in what looked like anger, and then they went flat. When he eyed the roadster, Lucy rushed on. "Would you examine the motorcar? Please?"
For one long moment, Lucy thought he was actually going to refuse. He looked at her, his mouth curling slightly. Lucy's heart was slamming thunderously. He unnerved her. It was a new experience, one she did not particularly like.
Wordlessly he moved past her, so closely, his body brushed hers. Lucy didn't jump out of his way in time to avoid the contact. She ran after him, following him to the auto. He laid his saddle carefully down, then squatted, regarding the carriage.
"Can you fix it?"
"Yes."
Lucy and Joanna exchanged bright, relieved looks. Then he rose to his full height, lifting up his saddle. "But I won't."
Lucy gaped at him. He appeared madder than hell. "In about an hour you'll reach a ranch," he said. "I imagine the walk will do you good."
He began striding away. Lucy stared incredulously at Joanna. He would leave them now?
"Go after him!" Joanna cried. "Quick!"
"Damn," Lucy exclaimed, torn. He was very rude; worse, she was sure he was dangerous. He did not look like the typical unemployed worker, oh no. And he was certainly not like any man she had ever met before. In addition to the obvious difference of background, no man had ever turned a deaf ear to her appeals before. But they were desperate. Her mind made up, she was about to run after him.
Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, cursing audibly, throwing his saddle on the ground. Lucy jumped invol
untarily as he came striding back to her, his open shirt swinging around his narrow hips. His stomach above the tarnished silver belt buckle was flat and looked as hard as a rock. A sheen of perspiration covered his skin. Realizing where she was looking, Lucy blushed and met his smoking gaze.
He came to an abrupt halt. "Don't tempt me."
"What?"
"I must be out of my mind." "You'll help us?"
"Like I said, I'm out of my damn mind." "Thank you!"
"Don't thank me, I don't have a kind bone in my body. Comprende?"
Lucy didn't understand. Not really. She stared at him. Why was he so angry? Why did he seem to dislike her so? He didn't even know her.
"Turn those baby blues elsewhere, princess," he said. "I'm not doing this for nothing. I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for me."
She stiffened. "Of course, how silly of me. How much do you want?"
He laughed as he took off his shirt. "I don't want your money." His gaze slid over her.
Lucy's head went higher; inside, she shook. His look was scathing . . . and something else. Something unfamiliar and scalding. She decided she disliked him. He was terribly rude, the lowest sort of riffraff. She didn't want his help, but she needed it. "I don't understand. If you don't want money...?"
He threw his shirt on the auto's hood. He whipped around. "If you'd lowered your little nose a ways back and given me a ride, I'd have fixed your axle right away."
She stared at his gleaming, thickly sculpted chest, his powerful rippling arms. Her body temperature, already high, went higher. She had never seen a man half-naked before. She knew she should not stare. Now she was being rude.
He stood very still. A silence had suddenly descended. He broke it. "Take your time. Take your fill."
Aghast, Lucy realized what she had been doing, and worse, what he had caught her doing, and she looked away, her face flaming. "We'll give you a ride." The words came out breathless and low.
He turned away.
Lucy covered her pounding heart with her palm.