In the next moment, when he broke from her and swept her into his arms, carrying her hurriedly toward the barn, she faltered in her confidence and whispered, “I’ll explain later.”
“You don’t have to explain,” he mumbled.
“I-I do,” she told him.
By now, he had reached the barn and let her feet drop to the ground.
“You don’t have to…” she began, wanting to release him from any obligation he felt to kiss her further because of what he’d said to her.
“You know I want to. And besides,” he whispered, putting his mouth to her ear and causing her knees to buckle, “I haven’t kept my promise.”
Taking advantage of her weakened state, he pressed her body back against the barn wall with his own. He took her face in his hands for a moment as he began to fulfill the promise of a kiss she’d never dreamed possible. There in the shadows and privacy of the barn, Ryder Maddox proceeded to weave a spell of passion about Dusty breathing of magic. With his simple caressing of her throat, arms, face, and hair, he somewhat hypnotized her—kissing her tenderly, teasingly, furiously, and demandingly—thereby sending her sense of reality to some sort of obliteration for a time. But was it, she wondered, because he kissed her any differently? No. It was because she had sought him out and in doing so had surrendered the resistive part of her present between them each time before. His kiss wasn’t any different, only more delicious and thirst-quenching because she received it differently. He’d known it would happen! He’d known that once she came to him without being coaxed or trapped or teased, it would indeed seem all the more dream-fulfilling to share in it with him.
She had never fathomed how incredible it would feel to run her fingers through his hair—to caress the broad expanse of his shoulders—to find that she could kiss him! Often his mouth would leave hers to scatter tender kisses along her nose, forehead, and neck, teasing mercilessly. Each time she would whisper some quiet hint to him she preferred his kiss on her mouth, he obeyed her without hesitation. She delighted, somewhat impishly, at her ability to control him so completely with a simple whisper or a hand pressed to his stomach.
“I’ve got chores to do,” he mumbled between kisses once.
“I know,” she answered breathlessly.
He released her then, stepping back and running his fingers through his already tousled hair. They looked away from each other shyly for one moment before he grinned at her with mutual understanding.
“There’s wood to chop now.” He pointed an index finger at her, winked, and chuckled, “But anytime you want me for somethin’ like that again, you just let me know.”
Dusty knew her cheeks were burning with the blush seeming to cover her whole being. What had she been thinking? She watched him leave the barn and shake his head in apparent wonderment before retrieving his ax and going about his labors.
Still trembling with delight, Dusty straightened her skirt and smoothed back her hair before leaving the barn. She blushed deeper still when Ryder looked over, winking at her again. She returned to where Miss Raynetta had retired to the porch swing.
As Dusty approached, Miss Raynetta frowned rather nervously and began fanning herself with her hand. “I guess I better be careful what kind a wagers I make in the future,” the now terribly agitated woman sighed.
“Don’t lose your nerve, Miss Raynetta,” Dusty warned, sitting next to her. “You’ll never know how much courage that took for me!”
“But the…the rewards were bountiful in your favor, sweet thing. I’m an old woman!”
Dusty smiled. She understood all too well Miss Raynetta’s worries, her fear. Again, heaven seemed to intervene, and Dusty looked up to see her father striding toward them, a contented smile on his handsome face.
“Oh, my dear, no!” Miss Raynetta sighed as Dusty glanced at her with daring.
“Daddy!” Dusty greeted dramatically as Hank stepped up onto the porch in one smooth stride.
“Hey there, punkin!” he greeted. “Miss Raynetta…I can’t tell you how it warms my heart to see you and my girls gettin’ on so well.” Dusty was encouraged, and she couldn’t help but elbow Miss Raynetta in the ribs. The woman immediately scolded her silently with a poke in her own. Yet she felt the woman’s heart aching as her father added, “It’s like having three purty little girls to my name rather’n only two.” Yet Dusty didn’t interpret the comment the same way as Miss Raynetta, no doubt, did. She sensed more hidden meaning than her father would care for her to have. Miss Raynetta’s anxieties fairly oozed from her every pore, and as Miss Raynetta began to wring the fabric of her skirt, Dusty determined she needed a little shove.
“Well, I’ve got too much left to do in gettin’ ready for tomorrow, Daddy.” Leaping up from the swing suddenly, she offered, “Why don’t you sit down here and take the weight off your feet for a minute? I’m sure Miss Raynetta is plum sick of my chatter.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Hank Hunter sighed, sitting down promptly, stretching his feet out before him. He propped one heavy boot over the other and sighed again, stretching his arms out on either side of him along the back of the swing.
Dusty almost giggled and yet felt profoundly sympathetic for Miss Raynetta, who squirmed uncomfortably as Hank’s arm brushed her shoulders. Odd to realize she knew exactly how Miss Raynetta felt. No doubt the woman’s heart was beating so hard inside her bosom she feared Hank could hear it. No doubt his arm brushing her shoulders had sent her body bubbling up in goose bumps.
In that brief moment, Dusty looked at her father differently than she ever had before. Hank Hunter was a profoundly handsome man—not just because he was her daddy but because it was factual! His shoulders were broad. He was tall and his body still muscular and strongly defined—a very youthful build. It amazed Dusty all at once to realize that her own father was someone who could easily send women of all ages swooning.
“Well,” Dusty sighed, “I’m off. You two have fun now.”
Dusty felt a little nip of guilt pinch her stomach at Miss Raynetta’s widened eyes and mortified expression. Still, it was just a little nip. Calmly going into the house, she immediately motioned to Becca, who was sitting at the table shelling peas. The two sisters quietly dashed into their mother’s old sewing room with a window looking out onto the porch.
Shhhh, Dusty mouthed. She and Becca crawled on their hands and knees to finally sit beneath the open window. Becca’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and Dusty was certain that at least part of their radiance was the lingering knowledge Miss Raynetta had been right about Feller.
“Well, now, Miss Raynetta McCarthy.” Hank’s voice was clearly audible in the sewing room. “What have you and my girls been up to all mornin’?”
“Um…um…just bakin’ and all for tomorrow,” the sweet woman stammered in nervous response.
Hank chuckled. “You’re an angel to come out here and spend your time with us a-helpin’ out.” There was silence for a moment, and then he continued, “Been a mite longer than I’d like to admit since I sat out here on any porch swing a-jabberin’ on to a girl.” Becca and Dusty both looked at each other delighted by their father’s calling Miss Raynetta a girl.
“Been a mite longer than I’d like to admit since I was a girl, Hank Hunter,” Miss Raynetta sighed.
“Ah, now go on! You look as fresh and sweet as the day I left your daddy’s ranch.”
“Hm. Good thing you’re good with cattle, Hank…’cause you sure are a rotten liar!”
Dusty motioned for Becca to follow her back out of the room, satisfied the conversation between her father and Miss Raynetta was going to continue.
Once they were both back in the kitchen, Becca whispered, “Do ya think we can get them two married, Dust?”
Dusty shrugged but smiled hopefully. Suddenly, everything seemed brighter—filled with possibility. Perhaps her father and Miss Raynetta would find happiness. Perhaps Feller would somehow find whatever he needed to make Becca’s life perfect. And maybe she and Ryde
r—no. She wouldn’t push her luck. She’d overcome a great deal of her fear, of her emotional trauma that day. She wouldn’t jinx it all by hoping for something that, though more possibly tangible than it had been before, was still a dream too good to be true.
Chapter Thirteen
Everyone arrived on time for the bunkhouse frame-raising the next morning. Dusty and Becca and Miss Raynetta too kept busy carrying water to the men and making sure lunch was ready—and then supper. The frame was up, as well as some of the side boards, by the time the sun began to set. Hank Hunter had asked several of the men who fiddled to bring their instruments and invited the wives and children of the men who had helped out to the ranch for pie and dancing.
It had been a long, hot day filled with hard work. Dusty hardly had a chance to say more than a few words to anyone in passing—especially Ryder. Still, she and Becca had enjoyed a nice chat or two with Miss Raynetta. Dusty was even more determined that no more time should be wasted where her father and the woman who loved him were concerned.
The setting sun left the fire in the pit, the moonlight, and lanterns to warm the dark of the night for the gathering of county folk. Even though the men were tired, everyone was enjoying the get-together. Summer would be gone too soon, and the warm nights were to be savored.
Ryder had gone out behind the house to the rain barrel to scrub his face and arms and change his shirt. Dusty watched him go. Though her heart pounded in anxious desire for him to return so she could capture his attention somehow, her own attention was drawn to the corral fence. Her father stood leaning against a post, smiling contentedly as he watched the gathering.
“You tired, Daddy?” Dusty asked him, giving him a warm hug and then joining him in observing their friends and acquaintances.
“Done in, honey! Just about done in,” he admitted with a wink and a tired sigh.
“The men got a whole lot more done than I thought they would,” she commented. Without giving him even a chance to respond, she barreled ahead. “Daddy…you ever think about gettin’ married again?”
“Good grief, girl!” he grumbled. “What kind of a question is that?”
“What about Miss Raynetta? You seem very fond of her. She’s a good lady and—”
“Stop it. Stop it, right now, Dusty,” he growled. His cheerful manner instantly disappeared. He seemed angry. Dusty followed the direction of his gaze and found his eyes did indeed follow Miss Raynetta as she walked from her seat toward the pie table. “I loved your mother so much. You know I still love her. I’ll always love her.”
“I know that, Daddy,” Dusty said softly. “And I know you’ll never stop. But…but there’s room in your heart for—”
“I couldn’t go through that again,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t love somebody and lose ’em. I couldn’t stand it.”
“But wouldn’t it be better to love her all up close and right there…than from far away, wishin’ you could have her close to you?” she ventured. “Wouldn’t you rather have somebody in your arms and lose ’em one day…than to have watched her for so long and lose her somehow…never havin’—”
“What’re you gettin’ at?” he asked suddenly. “You tryin’ to hitch me up with Raynetta McCarthy? What an idea, Dusty. Really!” But his eyes had an odd twinkle to them—though guilt was written there as well.
“Daddy,” she said softly, taking his hand, “Mama would want you to be with somebody. You’re still so young with so much to give someone. She wouldn’t want ya to be alone and sad and wastin’ what ya have to give. And Miss Raynetta is so completely different from Mama that nothin’ would be the same! It wouldn’t make ya feel guilty to love her, Daddy. If you’d just—”
“You’re talkin’ hogwash, Dusty.” He shook his head. “Look at her…happy as a puppy in a mud puddle. All fresh and pretty. Don’t look a day older than she did as a girl. And look at me…a forty-two year old man…an old man…with two grown daughters and—”
“And no sons,” Dusty interrupted.
Hank chuckled, looking back toward Raynetta. “What would Raynetta McCarthy ever see worth havin’ in me?”
Dusty swallowed hard and wondered if she were about to do the right thing. “Miss Raynetta loved someone once. Did ya know that, Daddy?”
“I heard the gossip in town. Folks say it was some hand of her daddy’s. But I was there up until she was fourteen or fifteen. I don’t remember her bein’ sweet on nobody. I figure…nobody ever had the guts to go after her. She’s quite the pistol…and a beauty at that.”
“It’s true, the gossip. It was a cowboy she loved,” Dusty blurted.
“Really? And how is it that you know so much?” he asked.
“She told me,” Dusty answered plainly.
“Is that so?” Hank chuckled and returned his attention to Raynetta. “Well, he musta been a horse’s hind end not to snatch her up without a second thought.”
“He was a very, very wonderful young man, Daddy. You see…he didn’t know she loved him. She never told him.”
“Why the heck not? She ain’t the type not to tell somebody what she’s a-thinkin’ about ’em.”
“Well,” Dusty ventured, “he…he was a mite older than her. Not too, too much older…but she was young.” Dusty had her father’s undivided attention now. No doubt he sensed the similarity between the story she was telling of Miss Raynetta and her own. “And he loved someone else…truly loved someone else. Someone Miss Raynetta thought the world of. Someone she thought deserved such a fine man.”
“Hm,” he mused, “musta been quite the woman he loved to keep his attention from Miss Raynetta McCarthy.”
“Oh, she was. A marvelous woman.” Dusty stroked the back of her father’s hand and said softly, “Daddy, who do you think that cowboy was who didn’t notice Miss Raynetta when she was fifteen and he was workin’ for her daddy?”
“I can’t imagine.” His eyes widened as he asked, “You mean you know? You mean to tell me that she told ya?” He shook his head again. “I was there when she was about that age, sure enough. Did I know him, do ya think?”
Dusty smiled lovingly at her father. He was truly naive as to who the cowboy was who had unwittingly broken Raynetta McCarthy’s tender heart. “I think ya did, Daddy,” was all she said.
She wondered if she should’ve told him—for an expression of understanding captured his face, and with it came disbelief, guilt, regret.
“No, sir,” he argued, his voice breaking with emotion. “I woulda known that. I never woulda been blind to somethin’ like that,” he assured himself, looking away. He looked sickened, pale—so much so that Dusty was sincerely concerned.
“Daddy?” she asked. “You all right? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told ya. I…I just thought it might help ya to…to…”
“To what, Dusty?” he asked. He was very emotional. She hadn’t realized fully how much he already cared for Miss Raynetta. The knowledge he’d hurt her in the past might now indeed serve to drive him further away from her rather than toward her. “To what?”
“I don’t know, Daddy,” Dusty cried suddenly. “Don’t keep yourself from happiness outta guilt about Mama! I can see you have feelin’s for Miss Raynetta, Daddy! Don’t—”
“You tryin’ to tell me that it’s my fault she never married anybody else? You sayin’ that?” he asked. Since her mother’s death, Dusty had never seen her father so disturbed and weakened.
“No, Daddy. I’m not sayin’ that.” She swallowed hard. She’d come this far; she might as well tie her own noose completely. “But sometimes, Daddy…sometimes ya love someone so much…so real…that it doesn’t matter who comes along. Even if ya try your hardest to love someone else…it doesn’t matter. Sometimes…you can’t love somebody else.” How well she knew the truth of her own words.
“Little Raynetta,” Hank whispered suddenly. Dusty felt tears streaming down her face at the sight of tears welling in her father’s eyes. He scratched his whiskery chin for a moment. “I remember that day…the
day I left her daddy’s farm ’cause me and your mama were gettin’ married.” All the time he talked, his eyes were on Raynetta McCarthy—on Raynetta McCarthy and full of tears. “She…she come out to the barn to say good-bye…”
During his pause, Dusty closed her eyes against the pain in her heart. She knew all too perfectly what the young girl must’ve been feeling, what she’d wanted to say. Only hadn’t.
“She cried when she said good-bye,” Hank continued. “Told me she was cryin’ because she was so happy for Elly and me. She gave me a…a scarf she’d been knittin’. Told me to congratulate Elly and said good-bye.” Her father coughed, choking back tears. Then he said, “I loved your mother so much, Dusty.”
“I know, Daddy,” Dusty whispered through her own tears.
“It’s only been this past year or so that I’ve been findin’ myself in mind of Miss Raynetta. I tell myself it wouldn’t be right…that it would be disrespectful to your mama and unfair to Miss Raynetta. I been tellin’ myself that there ain’t nothin’ left in an old goat like me to offer somethin’ as young and full of life as her. And yet sometimes…when she’s around…I feel twenty again! All those silly notions that go through your mind when you’re younger start up and…”
They were both silent for a moment as they fought to control their emotions. In fact, they had both been shedding tears and looking down at their feet, so when Raynetta McCarthy spoke, it was the first they realized she’d approached them.
“Well, you two seem awful sour tonight!” Miss Raynetta announced. Guiltily, both Dusty and her father looked up, revealing the obviously serious nature of their conversation. “Oh, pardon me. I-I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sorry I interrupted,” she apologized, turning to leave.
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