Dusty’s father chuckled, and even for her angry, dark mood, Dusty couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face as she watched the eccentric woman.
Miss Raynetta was the county character. Everybody thought so. She was thirty-five years old and had never married. She always wore the brightest colored dresses anyone had ever seen. Purple and red were her favorite colors to wear, and that alone gave birth to many a raised eyebrow. Dusty couldn’t understand why Miss Raynetta had never married. Oh, it was true she was someone who you had to learn to understand, but she was adorable all the same. She was tiny, not quite five feet, with dark brown hair and big brown eyes. She unknowingly boasted the complexion of an angel—soft, smooth skin that was never marred by the tiniest freckle or blemish. Her smile and laughter were a pure remedy for anything causing anyone else to frown. All she had to do was enter a room, and the air of eccentricity, wit, and curiosity that was her aura immediately set even the grouchiest of souls to grinning. Sometimes, over the past five years, Dusty had wondered if perhaps Miss Raynetta McCarthy had been a victim of heartbreak—abandoned in the wake of a heartless man as she herself was.
“You all right?” Ryder asked from behind her, diverting Dusty’s attention from Miss Raynetta’s confessions of sin.
“I’m fine,” she stated, not looking back to him. “My pride seems to be the only bruise that’ll linger.”
“That and the dirt mark on the back a your…skirt,” he mumbled.
Dusty stopped cold in her tracks, whirling around to glare at him. He stood grinning mischievously, and Dusty fought the instinct to be moved to emotion by the familiar expression.
“It might be best if you were to go before me then, Mr. Maddox,” she spat at him.
His grin broadened, and he nodded to her. As he strode past her, he lowered his voice and said, “All righty then. But it ain’t like I haven’t dusted off the seat of your britches before.”
Dusty’s mouth gaped open in astonishment at his remark. He was unbelievable—his comment completely improper! “You haven’t changed a bit!” she scolded.
He paused and looked back at her. His expression changed. His eyes narrowed, a frown puckering his handsome brow. He somewhat glared at her and said, “You have.” He turned from her. Catching up to Hank and Raynetta, he offered his arm to the tiny female eccentric.
“Well! Bless my soul!” Dusty heard Raynetta exclaim. “I’d know you anywhere! Mr. Ryder Maddox. Hank Hunter, where’d ya dig this boy up from?”
Dusty was hateful in spirit and didn’t want to chance being cheered up by her father, Miss Raynetta McCarthy, or Ryder Maddox, for that matter. So she turned and began walking in the opposite direction.
“You wanna help me with this team, Dusty?” Feller asked as she passed him. She didn’t want to help, but she knew Feller was trying to distract her. She nodded, dropped the forks into her apron pocket, and silently matched his stride as he led the team back to the barn.
“Ain’t like you to nearly be run over by a team of horses, Dusty,” Feller noted when they’d reached the barn. He began checking the harnesses, the lines, and the horses themselves—searching for anything amiss that might have caused the team to bolt. “Well, it ain’t like you…anymore,” he added when she remained silent.
Dusty had no desire to hear one of Feller’s sneaky sermons on the evils of how she’d changed. Therefore, she offered, “Miss Raynetta gets in more fixes than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Feller chuckled. “Yep. She’s somethin’ else. But it’s her love for livin’ that gets her through…makes her somebody that people like to be around.”
“You know everythin’, Feller,” Dusty ventured as she watched him. She stroked the velvety nose of one of the horses and then the other. Feller did know everything. Dusty believed that to be a fact. He knew everything that was important anyway. She looked to him, wondering why such a good-looking cowboy as Feller Lance had never settled down. Feller was tall, slim, with dark hair and light-colored eyes. She’d seen many a girl in town pine away after him. “Why didn’t Miss Raynetta ever get married?”
He was silent for a long time. Then he said, “I…uh…I’m not certain.”
Dusty frowned. He was lying to her. She could sense it. He knew why.
“You do too know. Why don’t ya want to tell me?” she asked. “Is it as lewd a story as all that?” Her curiosity was truly stirred.
“Ain’t lewd at all. Just…just a little too close to home,” the weathered cowboy mumbled.
“Tell it to me, Feller,” Dusty begged. “I wanna know.”
It seemed odd to Dusty in that moment that Feller should know so much about life. The way he talked and the knowledge he owned made him seem so much older than his mere thirty years. As a child she had once asked Feller why he’d never married—why he’d never had a family. He always just told her he hadn’t found anyone that could love him. It had forever saddened Dusty. She had loved him once—followed him around like a lovesick kitten, in fact. But then she’d fallen in love with Ryder Maddox and left Feller for young Becca to fawn over for years and years. Sometimes Dusty fancied that, even now, Becca’s eyes twinkled when she listened to Feller telling stories around the fire at night.
“Miss Raynetta fell for a cowboy…long while back. ’Fore you were born. But she was young, and he was older…and he hitched up with somebody else ’fore she was old enough really to have a chance to catch him.”
Dusty turned and looked to where Miss Raynetta sat next to Becca, both of them surrounded by adoring hands. Miss Raynetta was magic! She had a way of drawing people to her like bees to honey. And yet…
“She seems happy enough,” Dusty mumbled. If Miss Raynetta could be happy without a man in her life, then…
“Fact was…the man didn’t even know how she felt. He went off and married his darlin’ not even knowin’ that he’d broke some other little girl’s heart.” Dusty watched Feller as he now inspected the wagon for something that might have caused the team to run. “Took her so long to quit hurtin’, and she sure didn’t want any other man that come along…well, by the time she was over it, she’d missed the best years of her life—them carefree, flirtin’, courtin’, sparkin’-on-the-porch-swing years.”
Dusty was irritated. Somehow Feller always managed to work in a sermon and preach to her. “And she seems fine for havin’ the wisdom to avoid it all,” she grumbled.
“Seemin’ and bein’ are tricks of the trade, Dusty,” he told her frankly. “Never had her own children or a husband to keep her warm and safe…to laugh with and work alongside of.”
“And how is it that you know so much about her?” Dusty asked a bit too sharply.
“Me an ol’ Willy McCarthy used to be good friends. Willy’s Miss Raynetta’s little brother and the same age as me. We started cowboyin’ together for Miss Raynetta’s daddy. We had a lot of time to talk. Willy told me.” Then he looked up at her and reminded, “You asked me about it, Dusty. Remember that.”
“Yes, I asked you,” Dusty whined, “but you always turn it into a sermon. I’m fine where I am, Feller. I’m fine and happy. I tried the ‘lovin’ a man’ part of life once…and once was enough for me.”
“You tried it twice, Dusty,” he corrected her. “Then ya tucked tail and ran.”
Dusty couldn’t be angry with him. He was right on both counts! She knew it. So she tightened her jaw and stroked a horse’s nose.
“How are you feelin’ just now, darlin’?” he asked unexpectedly. “Ol’ Ryder Maddox rides in after five years a-lookin’ as big and strong as anythin’. And I ain’t much of a judge when it comes to good-lookin’ or ain’t…but I suspect he’s the handsomest boy any female ever laid eyes on. And…I’m a wonderin’ how you’re feelin’ about now.”
Dusty stared at the horse in front of her, never seeing it. “I feel like I’ve been thrown to the ground and trampled until I can’t breathe…or get up…or go on. I hate him. I hate him more than I did five years ago.” She walke
d away with loathed moisture in her eyes, a pounding in her head, and hatred in her heart the like even she’d never imagined.
Feller sighed heavily and shook his head. That little girl concerned him more than she’d ever know. And that Raynetta McCarthy—he’d told Dusty more than he planned, and he hadn’t told her all of it.
“Sure ya hate him, girl,” he said to himself. “If ya hated him…ya wouldn’t be so miserable.”
Miss Raynetta had been saved, Feller had finished up the cooking, and now everyone sat enjoying the cool of the evening and a good meal.
“That Becca,” Ryder chuckled as he sat with Feller eating his meal. “She ain’t changed a lick…’cept in growin’ up a mite.”
“And that Dusty has, you mean to be sayin’,” Feller stated with the awareness given an experienced man.
Ryder nodded and smiled at his friend’s insight. “Yep.” He paused a moment before going on. “Ol’ Hank…he told me how he lost Mrs. Hunter. She was the finest woman I ever knew.”
“Amen,” Feller whispered in emphatic, reverent agreement.
“But…I reckon there’s somethin’ he ain’t told me about Dusty.” Ryder let the comment hang in the air, knowing Feller Lance would tell him what he wanted to know if he felt it were the right thing to do. And he wouldn’t if he didn’t.
Feller chewed and swallowed a bit of beef. He inhaled deeply and began. “Well…I’ll tell ya honest, boy…I don’t usually take it as my place to tell anybody nothin’ where Dusty is concerned, but I think since you mighta had somethin’ to do with it…you oughta know.”
Ryder looked down at his plate—guilt-ridden. “She was fourteen years old, Feller. You know that.”
“I know it, boy. I ain’t blamin’ you. I just said when it comes to the heart of Miss Angelina Hunter…you were the first one there. That’s all.”
Ryder nodded, and Feller knew he’d made his point. “Well, boy…you remember the Richardsons in town? Man who owned the bank?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“You remember their son, Cash?” Feller asked.
“Yep. Little wormy, pampered kid…didn’t know how to get his hands dirty,” Ryder answered.
“That’d be the one. Well…he took a likin’ to Dusty a year or so after you left. When she was…oh, ’bout fifteen, he started really payin’ her court. Not official, mind you. But he rode out here a lot, danced with her a bunch at all the socials in town, sent her little love notes, and all that.” Feller noticed the disapproving frown on Ryder’s face, the way he wrinkled his nose in distaste, so he added, “Now mind you, Ryder…that boy filled out. And fast! He’s a big ol’ boy now. Not a hair under you and perty handsome for a town boy. Weren’t a girl for two counties wasn’t plum gone on that boy. Oh, and let me tell ya…he was a charmer. Charmed every female in the county clear down to her toes. And he took to our little Dusty like kittens to cream.”
Feller watched as Ryder looked up to where Dusty sat alone eating her meal. He knew the cowboy owned an ocean of guilt where Miss Angelina Hunter was concerned. “Anyway,” he continued, “for two years that boy charmed, courted, and coaxed that girl. Treated her good…I can’t deny that. And she fell for him—as much as a girl can fall when someone else is always a-lurkin’ in the back of her mind.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ryder grumbled. “You done made your point, Feller.”
Feller chuckled and slapped the man on the back. “Anyway…’bout six months after Dusty turned seventeen, ol’ Cash proposed marriage.”
“Really?” Ryder seemed surprised. “And she said…” he coaxed.
“She said…she’d think about it, as I recall. Seemed she wanted to talk it over with her daddy, bein’ that her mama had just passed about a year or so before and all. So our little Dusty—and she’s a good gal—she wouldn’t even consider it ’less she was really lovin’ that man in some way…I assure ya of that. Anyhow…she decides some young cowhand she had her heart set on has grown up and got hisself married somewhere…”
“Ah, now come on, Feller! Cut me some rope here,” Ryder chuckled.
Feller smiled. “All right, boy. All right. So Dusty…she decides to marry Cash. He gives her a ring…big ol’ rock of a diamond and gold band. He gives her a ring, and they set a date. Then one day, Dusty goes into town to surprise him with a birthday cake she made for his twentieth. Walks up to the Richardson house…knocks…no answer. She hears somethin’ comin’ from their barn…walks over, opens the barn door…and sees Mr. Cash Richardson hisself a-smoochin’ and rompin’ in the hay with one of them loose girls from the saloon.”
“Ouch,” Ryder sighed, rubbing at the whiskers on his chin. He shook his head and frowned.
“Oh, the smelly dog begged and groveled, sent her gifts, cried…did everythin’. But you know Dusty. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with him. Bad thing is,” Feller added, lowering his voice, “she wouldn’t have nothin’ to do with nobody. Not for the longest time. She still ain’t got no use for men other than her daddy and, I’m proud to say, me. Don’t trust ’em.”
“Betray a woman’s trust, and ya murder her soul,” Ryder mumbled, looking up to where Dusty sat, having been joined by her father.
“Yep.” Feller looked up to Dusty too. His own heart ached for the suffering endured by a young woman he loved like a little sister. “She cried and cried and cried off and on for weeks. And she ain’t shed a tear—that I seen, anyway—since. She’s hard, Ryder. Hard as stone. Works herself like a mule, won’t let nobody close…’cept Alice. You remember Alice Maxwell?”
“Oh, yeah. They were friends when I was here,” Ryder recalled aloud.
“Yep. But Alice got married and has two babies and her husband to care for now. So she don’t get over much.”
“Banker’s son. Dirty yeller dog,” Ryder mumbled, shaking his head as he watched Dusty talking with her father and now Becca.
“Yep. Wanted to shoot him myself. I think ol’ Hank had a hard time not beatin’ the waddin’ out of him,” Feller told the man.
“Why don’t you heal her heart, Feller?” Ryder asked, an unreadable expression on his face. “Ya said yourself she still takes to ya.”
Feller couldn’t really tell whether the man were in jest or not. “Tarnation, boy! Even if I had the inclination—which I don’t—you think she’d fall for another cowboy?” Then pure determination drove him to his next statement. “I figure…that’s what the Lord, fate, or her daddy brung you back for.”
Ryder chuckled, shook his head, and took a swig of water out of his beat-up old tin cup. “That girl don’t need the likes a me. I been around and back since I was last here, Feller. One thing a broken-hearted woman don’t need…it’s a man with a yoke ’round his neck hitched up to a wagon and a-haulin’ bricks.” Feller watched as Ryder Maddox inhaled a deep and grievous breath, exhaling long and hard. “But…I will say that this here’s the best meat I ever tasted!” He smiled and stood up. “Since I left here five years ago, that is. I’m thinkin’ I need a bite more.” He walked away to where Becca was now serving up seconds.
Feller watched him go. “Yep. Fate or heaven.” Then he looked to where Becca was feeding the men. He didn’t even realize a smile had spread across his face as he watched her fumbling around trying to serve—wasn’t even conscious of the wink he gave her when she looked over at him and sighed in frustration. He simply stood up and went to her rescue.
All evening Dusty had been quiet. She hadn’t felt like talking. Her conversation with Feller had squelched any desire she might have had to socialize. He is such a nag sometimes, she thought to herself. But she loved him all the same. She had a powerful twinge of regret at the thought of him ever leaving the ranch.
“Oh, Dusty!” Miss Raynetta exclaimed as she plopped herself down on the bench next to Dusty. One thing about Miss Raynetta—she didn’t sit down; she plopped. Dusty forced a smile, not really feeling li
ke a chat with Miss Raynetta—mostly because Miss Raynetta always had a way of making her feel better, and Dusty wanted to wallow in her misery. It was how she stayed guarded.
“Oh, Dusty! I am so sorry that I nearly ran right over you with the team! I can’t even think on it. I just start to feelin’ like I’m gonna upchuck right here and now!”
Dusty smiled. The woman was an angel. Her sincere dramatics were also far too amusing not to smile at. “I know it wasn’t your fault, Miss Raynetta. I shouldn’ta been daydreamin’.”
Raynetta McCarthy smiled. “Well…if’n I was nineteen and Ryder Maddox came a-ridin’ up again one warm May afternoon with my daddy…I’da been daydreamin’ too!” She winked, and Dusty shook her head, delightedly irritated. “Actually, even now if Ryder Maddox came a-ridin’ up…I’d be a-daydreamin’!”
“Now, Miss Raynetta…you know I don’t—” Dusty began.
“I know, I know,” the woman sighed. Then tactfully, Raynetta changed the subject. “I thought I was gonna meet the Maker, Dusty. Right here on your daddy’s ranch. My heart’s a-beatin’ like a hammer on a nail just thinkin’ about it!”
“But Daddy saved you,” Dusty reminded her in an effort to calm her down once more.
Instead, Miss Raynetta’s excitement and smile disappeared in one breath as she said, “Yes. He did.”
Dusty frowned. The woman seemed oddly void of her usual zest. “What’s the matter, Miss Raynetta?” Dusty was genuinely concerned. It was unlike the woman to look so defeated.
But Raynetta just shook her head. “I’m just weary, sweet thing. Just weary. I been in town most all the day, and then comin’ home the team got away from me. Your daddy’s always tellin’ me that I should stop in and get one of the boys here to take me in to town. But I don’t need that, Dusty. Now do I?”
Dusty smiled. Here was a true kindred spirit—a woman who understood what a man could do to a woman’s life!
“No, you don’t!” Dusty agreed wholeheartedly.
Dusty Britches Page 3