Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “A truthful one,” he told her. “I left because I started thinkin’ somethin’ was wrong with me. I thought I was turnin’ into some sort of ol’ letch,” he explained. He seemed serious enough.

  Dusty shook her head and sighed, rolling her eyes as she spoke. “The ranch was doin’ really bad. That’s the year we almost lost it. I remember that.” Looking up to him suddenly—searchingly—for her heart and mind needed an answer, she added, “But…but Mama favored you, and you were the best hand we had next to Feller. Daddy would’ve kept you on through it all.”

  This intoxicatingly handsome man bent toward her then. Dusty noted how hot she felt being so near to him. It wasn’t the warmth of the day left in the night. It was the excited warmth—the blissful warmth a woman feels when the man she cares for most in the world is near to her. It disturbed her that this sensation should still wash over her after all this time—after she’d worked so hard to deny it.

  Lowering his voice, he said, “I was twenty years old, and I was attracted to a fourteen-year-old little girl I knew.” He raised an eyebrow and tipped his head to one side, waiting for what he’d said to sink into her mind. When Dusty stood still unbelieving, he added, “And she was the boss’s little girl to boot. Do ya see what I’m sayin’ here, Britches?” Moving his face even closer to hers, meeting her eye-to-eye, he stated, “I was afraid I was turnin’ into some sort of pervert or somethin’!”

  Dusty was infuriated that he would tease her so! Infuriated and very hurt. She couldn’t believe how he was toying with her—making fun of her childhood crush on him. “It’s a simple enough question, Ryder! Can’t ya just give me a straight answer?” she pleaded.

  He chuckled with frustration, retrieved the lantern from its place at his feet, and said, “Your daddy had to let us all go. That there was reason enough…but add to it the fact that in my spare time I was listin’ off in my head how many girls I knew who went and got married when they was sixteen or seventeen…and then tellin’ myself you’d be sixteen or seventeen soon enough!” He raised his eyebrows as the expression on Dusty’s face must’ve revealed, at last, the beginning of belief. He told her, “I needed work, your daddy’s ranch was flounderin’, and I was turnin’ into a pervert. So I left.” He turned from her then—simply turned and walked away.

  How Dusty loved to watch him walk! He had a rhythmic sort of saunter that defined him—caused him to stand apart from anyone else she knew. It was especially pleasant to be standing behind him and to watch him walk—even if he was a terrible, heartless tease.

  The darkness swallowed him quickly—even for the light of his lantern. Dusty turned and started back toward the house. Yet her heart leaped for a moment. He had seemed sincere in the reasons he gave her for leaving. But she remembered herself at fourteen, remembered all the silly, stupid things she used to do—the ridiculous situations she used to stumble into. Stuffing her dress for the picnic was one of her milder antics. It was true: Ryder had always treated her kindly—more than kindly, actually. He’d always been chivalrous in saving her dignity anytime he was near, when she would plunge headlong into stupidity—like the handkerchiefs in her bodice at that long-ago Fourth of July picnic. He’d saved her today, hadn’t he? In so many more ways than he would ever know! She could never admit to anyone the selfish, immature elation she’d felt when he’d knocked the stuffing out of Cash Richardson. It had been fabulous! He’d even saved her on that night he’d left so long ago. The night she’d confessed her young heart’s obsession with him. On that night he’d…

  “A pervert! Oh, please!” she mumbled, entering the house and not allowing herself to dwell on that incident five years ago.

  “Who’s a pervert?” Becca asked unexpectedly. She’d been standing at the sink cutting up berries when Dusty had entered.

  “Uh…nobody, Beck,” Dusty stammered, waving her hand in a gesture Becca should forget Dusty had ever said it.

  “But you said, ‘A pervert! Oh, please!’ ” Becca prodded, undaunted.

  “Must be a man she’s talkin’ about,” her father answered from his seat at the table. “Perverts. The whole lot of ’em. Ain’t that right, Dusty?”

  Dusty rolled her eyes, thinking her father was making fun of her. Yet when she looked at him to see his face completely serious, no sign of mirth whatsoever apparent there, she realized what he thought she must be thinking.

  “I…I wasn’t speakin’ of…” she insisted.

  Her daddy slid his chair back and stood up. Reaching up and retrieving his hat from the hat rack behind him, he told her, “Ain’t all males of the species as low as them fellas in town, Dusty. As low as Cash Richardson, for that matter! It’s way past time for you to be believin’ that they are.” Hank was always grouchy when he was tired, and tonight he must’ve been done in.

  “But, Daddy, I wasn’t…” she stammered again. Still, he left by way of the front door.

  Becca stood looking at her sister with blatant disapproval. “It upsets Daddy when you dog all men. And it upsets him even more that ya let it ruin your life!”

  “I wasn’t talkin’ about today, Rebecca,” Dusty said, irritated. She sensed the hot sensation of anger and humiliation rising within her. Her face felt warm and red, and her hands began to perspire. Yet how else could she expect everyone to interpret her actions? She’d behaved this way for so long—what else did she deserve? “And it didn’t ruin my life! He—”

  Becca threw the knife she’d been using into the sink, exasperated. “It did so! You’ve been nothin’ but prickles and burrs to every fella who comes anywhere near to ya ever since Cash done ya wrong. Won’t smile at anybody…won’t talk to anybody longer than absolutely necessary. You’re even mean to me and Daddy half the time…sulkin’ every minute of the dang day, sittin’ around feelin’ sorry for yourself! Workin’ like a horse to keep yourself so tired and miserable that ya don’t have time to remember you’re a girl who likes to smell nice and look pretty! There’s other people hurtin’ in the world, Angelina. Hurtin’ a whole lot deeper than you. And it’s time you quit bein’ so selfish and…and downright chicken…and started livin’ life again! Heaven knows Daddy and I would be a lot better off!”

  Had everyone in her family lost their ever-loving minds?

  “What do you even know about how hurt I am, Rebecca? What do you even know about life and how it can burn you?” Dusty shouted, tears filling her eyes. For all her holding in her emotions and heartache, she’d held in everything else too. All her need to talk to someone, to be comforted, had been bound up.

  “I know that for two years I’ve lived my life in the shadow of the great Dusty Hunter, who had her heart broken! I spend half the time with the new hands or with friends in town explainin’ why someone as pretty as my sister is so miserable and cold. Dusty, Dusty, Dusty! That’s all I hear! Heck, for the first year after you caught Cash with that saloon girl, I spent every Sunday doggin’ him after church so’s he wouldn’t spend all afternoon beggin’ me to win ya back for him!”

  Dusty tried to ignore the tears escaping her eyes, streaming over her cheeks. She’d never considered how her own misfortune affected her family. She’d been so wrapped up in her own heartbreak, in her own grief, she’d been selfish and blind to what it had done to those around her.

  “And I know a whole lot more about heartache than you think!” Becca continued, though she lowered her voice—though it cracked with emotion. Rebecca’s compassion for her sister was spent that day as far as patience was concerned, and all the things she’d wanted to say to Dusty—all the things Dusty had needed to hear—burst out of her mouth. “You go on and cry, Angelina! It’s time you felt somethin’!” Bursting into tears of her own, Becca ran out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Six

  Dusty stood for a moment, wiping the tears from her cheeks. When she couldn’t stop more tears from escaping her eyes, she turned and grabbed a lantern from the front porch. Quickly lighting it, she fled
the house. She ran and ran—tears raining over her face—until she’d reached the banks of the stream. This was where it fed the big pond by way of a serene waterfall. She leaned against a tree as she tried to catch her breath. Somehow the stars didn’t look as bright or as beautiful overhead. She didn’t care that the water was beginning to cool off. So what if she caught her death of cold! She loved an evening swim, and in that moment, it was the only thing in life that didn’t cause her grief.

  Crying, sobbing harder than she’d cried in so very long, she leaned back against the tree as the truth of what her sister had spoken sank in. Angrily, she unlaced her boots and removed them, stripping her stockings off as well. She unfastened her skirt, letting it fall to the ground around her ankles. Lifting her petticoat as she stepped out of her skirt, and holding the lantern high to light her way, she nimbly made her way along the boulders leading to the waterfall.

  Setting the lantern on a nearby boulder, Dusty stepped through the cold water and into the small alcove behind the waterfall. Hundreds of years of the waterfall eating away at the rock had created the alcove—the perfect place to hide—to be alone. Dusty cried bitterly for long moments, plunging her face into the water before her as it cascaded down from above. The cold water felt good on her face. It soothed the heat of her tears and calmed her. She wiped the excess water from her eyes, smoothed her wet hair, and leaned against the cool, wet slab of rock behind her.

  Closing her eyes in trying to hold back more tears, she thought on what Becca had said. It had all been true. All of it! She couldn’t fault her sister for having an insight to her pain and selfishness. The lantern light burned low and reassuring on the other side of the waterfall, but even its light did nothing to comfort her. Closing her eyes again, she tried to clear her mind. What Becca had said had all been true, except for one thing: it hadn’t been Cash Richardson who had broken her heart. Cash had only driven the final nail into her coffin of heartbreak. It hadn’t been Cash she’d cried over after she found him with the saloon girl. It had been Ryder. Dusty had cried years of tears—her heart breaking because there had been no handsome Ryder Maddox to rescue her from Cash. She’d merely gotten involved with Cash because Ryder was the only man for her and he was gone. She’d convinced herself she’d have to settle with whatever came along. It was Ryder who’d broken her—Ryder—not Cash.

  “You all right?” Ryder asked, stepping into the alcove from one side of the waterfall. It wasn’t necessary to walk right through the cascading sheets of water as Dusty had done. Dusty was startled by his sudden appearance. Immediately, she began wiping at the water trickling over her face from her wet hair. He set his own lantern down on the wet slab of stone beneath their feet.

  “What are you doin’?” she asked him.

  “I saw ya leave the house…and ya looked upset,” he replied. He stood next to her, leaning back against the rock and looking out at the water rushing over them. “I came to apologize…figured I’m the one who upset ya.” He wore an expression of both guilt and regret.

  At that very moment, Dusty realized she wore only her shirtwaist, petticoat, and pantaloons. In an effort to convince him to leave—to leave her to her own thoughts and her humiliating lack of attire—she said, “I’m fine. It wasn’t anything you said.”

  Still, he remained standing next to her. In fact, he removed his hat and plunged his own head forward into the water. He brushed the water from his face and smoothed his hair back. He looked at her for a long moment. Looking away, he said, “Ya know, Dusty…it’s time ya got over that dog and went on with life.”

  Dusty couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. “What?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I’ve been watchin’ you,” he said. He looked at her—studied her—and the intimidation of being studied by a man so profoundly attractive caused her great discomfort. She looked away. “You’ve buried yourself. Ya got this old hard shell built around ya now…and nobody gets through it.”

  Someone gets through it, she thought.

  She tried to settle the emotions running through her—overtaking her. Yet when she spoke, she knew the turmoil in her soul was evident in her raised voice. “Fine—go ahead. Tell me how awful I am—how selfish and uncaring I am. Go ahead!”

  Ryder grinned. “Now that’s more the hotheaded you I remember.” Yet his smile faded quickly as he added, “I don’t have to tell ya how you are now. You know it.” She looked up to him as he continued, “And that’s how ya want it. It’s safer. It’s safer to be a coward.” He sighed. “It’s safer.”

  Dusty looked away as the hot sting of tears seared her eyes again. Somehow hearing these things from this man hurt her more than hearing them from her sister or her father or Feller or anyone else. “Thank you. But I think I’m already feeling as bad about myself as I possibly can.”

  “And it’s safer to stay angry,” he added, seeming to ignore her plea for relief. “I don’t know what all went on, Angelina,” he added. Dusty winced at his calling her by her given name. It had always plucked at her heartstrings as some sort of delightful secret when Ryder called her Angelina. He shook his head and continued, “But there ain’t one man on this earth worth ruinin’ your life for.” The hair on the back of Dusty’s neck prickled slightly when he added, “One person can ruin your life for you…but you shouldn’t ruin your own life over one person.”

  She wondered at the cliché implication of his choice of words. All this time she’d spent lamenting over what had happened to her since he’d left so long ago. Self-centered and selfishly caught up in self-pity, she hadn’t even paused to wonder what life had dealt to Ryder Maddox. Besides, she thought, there was one man on earth worth ruining your life for. Suddenly, she consciously admitted again what she’d always known, all this time. The one person certainly wasn’t Cash Richardson, though he’d hurt her deeply. Dusty’s heartbreak had taken place long before she’d fallen almost in love with Cash.

  “You and Becca sure pride yourselves on knowin’ everything there is to know,” she mumbled.

  “I can’t speak for Becca…but I do know everything, Miss Britches,” Ryder stated, frowning down at her. “I’ve been watchin’ you.” He turned toward her, leaning one shoulder against the rock wall of the alcove. “Ya don’t smile much. Ya laugh…once in a while, maybe. Ain’t even a real laugh though. You pull your hair back all tight in a knot like some old widow…and your hands don’t ever hang at your sides or lay in your lap all soft and relaxed. You got ’em clenched into fists anytime you ain’t busy. And ya work almost harder than any man I know.”

  Dusty looked away quickly, realizing even as she stood next to him now, her small hands were indeed fisted. “And what does all that possibly matter to you, Ryder Maddox? Who are you to be worryin’ about me?” She felt a betraying tear leave one eye and travel down her cheek.

  “A boy you knew once a long time back. A boy who was a friend to you then…and who don’t like to see how you’ve turned out,” he answered plainly and not too kindly. As several more tears escaped her eyes at his almost cruel words, he added, “And I ain’t talkin’ about the wrappin’ on the package, Dusty. When you were fourteen years old, it was obvious to the world that you’d grow up to be a sweet-lookin’ peppermint stick. That ain’t what I mean.”

  Dusty brushed angrily at her tears and wondered why she still stood next to him—listening—enduring his cruel words.

  “It’s what’s inside you that you’re hidin’ from. And frankly, Dusty…I think ya know it’s selfish. It makes your daddy unhappy, it makes Becca unhappy…and anybody else who tries to friendly up to ya.”

  “Then why are you standin’ here?” she cried. “Why don’t you walk your sweet little hind end back to wherever it was Daddy dug you up? Then ya won’t have to be around someone like me who makes everybody miserable!” She plunged her head into the water, trying to cool the heat of her cheeks. She ran her fingers through her wet hair, keeping her eyes closed. It was too hard to look at him. It was painful to k
now Ryder stood so close to her—disappointed in her—unable to like her. Somehow, it actually hurt more now than it had so long ago.

  “Thank you, but I already know my hind end is sweet,” he said. She glared at him, and he grinned at her with sarcasm. “I like it here. That’s why I brought myself back here…sweet little hind end and all!” His jaw was tightly clenched, betraying his anger. “I like it here better than any place I’ve ever been. I just don’t like what’s happened to you.” Again Dusty buried her face in her hands, frustrated that she couldn’t stop the tears. “You ain’t only hurtin’ yourself, Dusty,” he mumbled. “You’re hurtin’ your daddy and Becca—”

  “Yes! I know! You’ve told me and told me and told me!” Dusty interrupted. Somehow, she was instantly able to harden herself—able to stop her tears all at once. “Becca’s adored you since she was eight years old, Ryder. You want to spend your time with someone sweet, untouched by disappointment and heartache? Then you spend your time with her! See how she turns out when you leave her!” She watched as he winced at the accusation. She reveled in the knowledge she’d made guilt bite at him.

  “You blame me, more than you blame him?” he asked in a low mumble.

  Could he truly still believe she’d actually loved Cash? She wanted to scream at him, I loved you! I loved you, and you left me! But instead she said, “I don’t blame anybody. Just myself. I saw the world all rosy and pink—love, laughter, and sunny days! It’s not your fault I was so innocent, is it?”

  Ryder rubbed his eyes for a moment and then his whiskery chin. “Nope. It ain’t my fault you were so innocent.” He looked to her, the brown sugar of his eyes warm and mesmerizing as the light from the lantern flickered in them. “It’s my fault you quit bein’ innocent.”

  Dusty didn’t argue with him. What was there to say? Call him a liar and prove to be a liar herself? He looked away from her—out at the thin wall of water before them.