Dusty Britches

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  “So, come spring, Mr. Montgomery brings in some new cattle. We get through the calving…and I make ready to leave. I’m packin’ my saddlebags. Dusty, my dog, is as happy as any hound ever was at my side…and I hear it start. I could hear the ruckus and the girls screamin’. I run out to see Lilly caught in the path of the herd hell-bent on tramplin’ anythin’ in their way. I jumped on my horse, bareback…only a bit on…and rode out there.” He swallowed hard and looked down at his hand as he made a fist. “I had her…right there. I had her, and she slipped. I don’t know how she slipped, but she pulled me off my horse too, bein’ that it wasn’t saddled proper…and by the time I scooped her up again, some mad steer had kicked her in the head. Though she woke up after a week, it was obvious she never would be in her right mind again, and Wesley…well, he was needin’ somethin’ to throw his anger at…so he blamed me.

  “Wesley and me had a go-’round. But I was tryin’ to understand what he was goin’ through. When he threatened to track me down and kill me…course I thought it was just pain eatin’ at him. But I figured I’d play it safe awhile and not drag you and your family into the mess. So I cowboyed around for a few months until I felt it was behind me. Went down to Arizona. And just as I was feelin’ I could start out for here again, Wesley and his boys showed up. They did me in pretty good that time. I was beat near to death before they tried to…” He paused and shrugged his scarred shoulder. “’Cause, ya see…they don’t come at me head on. They sneak up in the night or like when I’m not payin’ as much attention. If it hadn’t been for the townfolks a-knowin’ and lovin’ me…that meetin’ in Arizona probably would’ve been the end of me. I realized I couldn’t come back here.”

  He looked up at her. “But when I seen your daddy with that herd goin’ through Tucumcari…” He stood up, went to her, and took her by the shoulders. “I won’t leave, Dusty. I’m tired of runnin’ from somethin’ that wasn’t my fault. Heaven knows I’m lucky Cash Richardson is a big enough idiot to show his true colors, or I mighta come back to find I was too late after all.”

  “Don’t touch me,” Dusty breathed, stepping back and out of his grasp. “Don’t touch me again. Get on your horse and leave before they find you here.”

  “I know what you’re tryin’ to do, and it won’t work,” he growled.

  “You can’t stay, I can’t go with you, and—” she sobbed.

  “I’m stayin’. I will not leave you. Do you understand that?” he growled.

  “But…”

  He walked forward and took her face firmly between his powerful hands. “Give her to me, Dusty!” he demanded. The moisture in his eyes was profuse—threatened to spill over as he spoke. “Give me that girl you found…that girl or the other one that was here when I came back. I don’t care which. But I want you now. I’m tired of waitin’, and I’ve wasted enough time. I won’t leave you. I love you. Girl, I’ve loved you since you were a brat of a thing with dirt all over the sweet little fanny of your britches. And I love you more every minute that goes by. You’re in my dreams…day and night. In my mind…in my soul…in my blood!”

  She could not resist him—would not lose him! Dusty fell into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She’d never let him go! No matter what was to come, she would keep him. She had to! She inhaled deeply the scents that were about him. She let her lips rest on his neck for a moment, and then she drew back and took his handsome face in her own small hands.

  Ryder nodded. “And you need to stay away from me like this.” His eyes flashed with desire. “One of these days…once it’s all legal on paper and in front of the preacher…I’m gonna take ya out to this waterfall, strip ya down, and—”

  Dusty clamped her hand over his mouth. “Ryder,” she began to scold. “There are things you still shouldn’t say to me.” She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Yet.”

  She dashed out from under the waterfall intent on finding help and protection for Ryder. She ran along the rocks looking back at him as he pursued her. She needed to get him back to the house where there were more people—where they’d be safe.

  The strong arms wrapping around her body like steel bands caused her to gasp. Looking up, she screamed as she saw the frightening, intimidating war paint of a renegade warrior.

  “Dusty!” Ryder shouted as two men appeared from behind the large willow. They took hold of him and immediately ceased his struggle when the renegade holding Dusty put a knife to her throat. “Don’t hurt her,” Ryder pleaded angrily through clenched teeth.

  “Ah,” another man’s voice sighed, thick with sarcasm. Dusty glanced over to see another man, a young man perhaps Ryder’s age, holding a sobbing Rose Montgomery by the back of the neck. He held to a short length of rope—a rope tied around the neck of a dog. The dog began barking and straining on the rope, trying to get to Ryder. The man was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and powerful-looking. His eyes lewdly traveled the length of Dusty as he said, “Is this the famous Dusty?”

  “Don’t you touch her, Wesley,” Ryder growled.

  The man named Wesley only chuckled. “What’s that, Maddox? You don’t want me to throw her in front of a stampeding herd of cattle?”

  The dog finally succeeded in pulling the rope from Wesley’s grasp and ran to Ryder, barking and excitedly panting at his feet. The wolf-like animal with different colored eyes growled menacingly when one of the men holding Ryder kicked at her.

  “Sit, Dusty,” Ryder commanded. The dog immediately sat on its haunches, panting with delighted expectance.

  “Amazing, Maddox,” Wesley chuckled. “How do you keep such a hold on dogs, women, and children?” Again Wesley made a full and quite intimate visual appraisal of Dusty. “Of course…I guess that little girl you were always pining away after grew up in the end, didn’t she?”

  “Let her go, Wesley,” Ryder ordered. “You don’t have anything to blame on her!”

  Wesley’s triumphant smile disappeared. “An eye for an eye perhaps?”

  Ryder began to struggle violently, shouting, “No!”

  Dusty shrieked as Wesley snapped his fingers and the two men holding Ryder began dragging him toward one of the smaller trees nearby.

  “You see, my dear,” Wesley whispered, bending toward Dusty’s ear, “he could get away easily enough…but he knows I’ve got you!”

  “It wasn’t his fault, you filthy coward!” Dusty shouted at him.

  She was met with the stinging force of the back of his hand. It was too much for Ryder. Breaking free from his captors, he lunged toward Wesley.

  “Stop,” Wesley reminded Ryder, pointing to the knife at Dusty’s throat. Ryder stopped his aggression. When the two men began pulling him back toward the trees, he simply glared at the villain.

  “You don’t understand it all, Wes!” Rose pleaded suddenly, struggling in the madman’s grasp. “There’s more to it than you know!”

  “Shut up, Rose!” Wesley shouted. “Bind him up for it, boys!” Wesley threw Rose to the ground, growling at her, “Stay.” Then he took hold of Dusty. “Carve him up,” he told the renegade. “Slowly.”

  Dusty screamed, sobbing hysterically—clawing at Wesley. Yet again the knife was at her throat, and she froze as she watched the men loop one end of a rope around Ryder’s wrist and tie the other to a large branch of the tree. She could already see what they meant to do. They had him between two trees, a rope looped at each ankle and wrist. They would draw him up between the trees to torture him! The knife at her throat didn’t matter anymore, and she struggled to get away from Wesley’s grip. She almost succeeded in freeing herself, but he took hold of the back of her blouse and slammed her to the ground.

  “Wait! This girl just gave me an idea!” Wesley laughed.

  Dusty gasped as she felt him tear the back of her blouse open—cut the strings to her corset. He tore at the fabric of her camisole, and she felt the cool breeze of the willow’s shade on her flesh.

  “Should I, Maddox?” Wesley growled. “Should I make
you watch your precious boss’s daughter…watch her bleed as Crazy Bear skins her before he does you?”

  “You put a mark on her, and I will kill you!” Ryder threatened. His eyes were blazing with anger and fear.

  Wesley laughed. “Really? Kill me? While you’re being skinned yourself?”

  Ryder began to struggle with the one arm stretched out toward the tree by a rope. But the cold blade of the knife held against Dusty’s back stopped him, and he stood still—frantically looking about for an answer to save her.

  “Stop it, Wes!” Rose cried out again. “You don’t know it all! You don’t! You wouldn’t be doin’ this if—”

  “If what, Rose?” the man shouted. “You’ve said that to me before, and yet you never have anything to say, now do you?”

  “It was all Lilly’s fault!” Rose screamed. “Sh-she started the stampede that day, Wesley!”

  “What?” he asked.

  Dusty felt the pressure of the knife on her flesh lessen. She looked up to see Ryder, although frowning, nod at her encouragingly as he began to test the strength of the rope keeping him too far away to help her.

  “Lilly started the cattle running, Wes! On purpose…so that Ryder would have to come to her rescue!” Rose sobbed into her hands for a moment.

  “That’s absurd, Rose! Why would she do that?” Wesley asked.

  Dusty knew he didn’t completely disbelieve Rose—else he wouldn’t have paused to listen. Ryder twisted his hand around the rope holding his wrist and began to pull. The other men were distracted by Rose’s story and didn’t notice Ryder’s efforts. Dusty could only watch him—hope for his strength to be even greater than she knew it to be.

  “She was in love with Ryder,” Rose suddenly sobbed. Dusty looked to Ryder, who, startled by what the girl had said, momentarily ceased in his efforts of escape.

  “What?” Ryder himself asked.

  “Lilly was certain she loved Ryder, Wesley. She was afraid to tell you. She wasn’t going to tell you until she was sure Ryder cared for her! I-I knew that he didn’t…b-but…I loved you so much, Wes! I thought that if she left you for Ryder…maybe—”

  “Why would she cause the stampede?” Wesley shouted, leaping to his feet. “Why?” Dusty immediately rolled over onto her back and sat up.

  “She wanted Ryder’s attention! She had tried for so long…gotten so tired of the stories about the little girl he’d known so long ago. She told me to stand on the fence and wait, and when the cattle were coming, she would ride out in front of them. Then I was to call for Ryder. He was in the barn, and she knew it. But she didn’t know his horse wasn’t saddled yet. We thought his horse was saddled. She paid Ben Dorian to spook the cattle and—”

  “You’re lying, Rose,” Wesley growled. “You’re lying to save his skin!”

  At once, Wesley was on Dusty again. He pushed her down into the grass and straddled her waist with his legs sitting heavily on her abdomen. He tugged at the front of her blouse. Since it was cut away at the back, her neck and shoulders were now exposed.

  “Does she taste good, Maddox?” Wesley asked, stroking Dusty’s cheeks with his knife.

  “I’ll kill you if you touch her! I’ll kill you!” Ryder shouted. He was enraged and began pulling harder on the rope holding him. His hand was turning purple from the lack of blood flow caused as the rope tightened on his wrist.

  “Oh, I will touch her…and then I’ll kill you!” Wesley shouted. “Stop fighting it, Maddox.”

  “Wesley!” Rose pleaded. “Listen to what I’m saying! It was Lillian’s fault! Mine and hers! I loved you, Wesley! I was as blind crazy in love with you as she was with Ryder. I thought that if Ryder could get Lilly to leave you then…then…”

  Dusty saw an expression of realization, of guilt, of regret in Wesley’s eyes for a moment—but only for a moment. Then it was gone, and his knife was at her throat again. Ryder stopped his struggles and tried to control his breathing.

  “Cut him, Crazy Bear,” Wesley ordered as his fingers caressed Dusty’s shoulders for a moment.

  “Wes, don’t do this thing!” Rose pleaded, sobbing hysterically.

  Sobbing, Dusty looked at Ryder. She watched the long-haired, face-painted butcher cut Ryder deeply on his arm just above his armpit. Ryder winced, and blood ran profusely from the wound.

  “You can carve me up all you want, Wesley…but leave Dusty out of it. She didn’t do anything to you,” Ryder growled.

  “I’ll carve you and her, Maddox. No matter what,” the man assured him.

  “That’s what I figured!” Ryder whistled sharply. “Dusty!” he shouted. Immediately, the dog leapt to its feet—burying its teeth into Wesley’s arm. Dusty squirmed from beneath Wesley’s body as he shouted and fought with the dog. The man called Crazy Bear lunged at Ryder, but Ryder ducked, kicking the man squarely in the midsection and sending him crumpling to the ground.

  “Help me, you idiots!” Wesley shouted. The two men restraining Ryder ran to Wesley’s assistance, kicking at the dog and trying to get hold of the rope hanging from its neck.

  “Run, Angelina!” Ryder shouted. With both hands, he pulled on the rope binding him to the tree.

  Dusty was momentarily awed as his muscles strained, blood flowing from his new wound. The sound of splitting bark crackled a moment before the large tree limb gave way to the strength of the man, and he was free. Crazy Bear had recovered and was wielding his knife as Ryder picked up the tree limb and swung it at him.

  Another man kicked the dog hard enough that its grip on Wesley was broken. The animal fell to the ground dazed and wounded. Ryder still wrestled with Crazy Bear, the rope on his wrist still tied to the tree limb. Dusty and Rose simultaneously screamed as they saw the large silver blade of the Indian’s knife plunge toward Ryder’s chest. Quickly, Ryder lifted the tree limb, and Crazy Bear’s blade was buried in it instead of Ryder’s body. Twisting the limb, Ryder caused the renegade to lose his grip on the weapon. Dropping the limb to the ground and in one smooth motion pulling the knife from the wood, Ryder cut the rope binding him. Turning, he ducked as Crazy Bear lunged at him.

  Suddenly, Wesley took hold of Dusty’s arm. He paused and winced because of his own injuries. Weakened from the attack of the dog, Wesley stumbled, and Dusty broke away. Again, Dusty screamed as Crazy Bear lunged at Ryder. This time the two men struggled to the ground, wrestling—brutally locked in mortal battle.

  “Cowards!” she heard Wesley shout as the other two men ran off. “Get back here, and do the job I paid you for!” One of the men paused, shook his head, and then continued to retreat.

  Dusty looked to Ryder—watched the struggle—held her breath as the body of Crazy Bear went limp. Ryder rolled the dying man over and pulled the knife from his chest. He turned his furious glare on Wesley.

  “It’s not my fault,” Ryder growled as his chest rose and fell with labored breathing. “None of it…none of this!”

  “Ryder,” Dusty sobbed. He held his hand up, signaling it would be dangerous for them both for her to distract him now.

  “Let it go, boy,” Ryder urged. “Walk away. Alive.”

  “No,” Wesley growled as he strode to meet Ryder.

  It was then the true coward in him reared its ugly head. He must’ve realized he was in no physical condition, because of the dog bite or otherwise, to face one such as Ryder Maddox. Instead, he turned toward Dusty, raised his knife, and lunged at her.

  “No!” Dusty heard Ryder shout. She turned to see Wesley with the knife high above his head, plunging it toward her. It was a nightmare! Time seemed to slow as Ryder miraculously reached her first. Catching Wesley’s arm as he plunged the knife toward Dusty, Ryder twisted his hand—burying the blade deep into Wesley’s stomach. Wesley’s breath stopped; his face contorted in pain. He dropped to his knees, looking in horrified realization at his own blood on his hands. Closing his eyes, he moaned and slumped at Dusty’s feet.

  “No!” Rose sobbed as she rushed to him. She turned him over, crying an
d stroking his pain-stricken face.

  “Rose?” he whispered. His eyes closed—his last breath exhaled.

  Dusty looked from the dead man on the ground and the woman sobbing over him to the pale, regretful face of Ryder before her. The dog began to bark as it struggled to its feet. Though Dusty looked in the direction of the dog’s barking to see her father, Feller, Becca, the sheriff, and others approaching on horseback—though she heard their questioning and angry shouts—she cared for nothing but the fact Ryder was safe—that he was free—that she was free!

  Dusty and Ryder stood for several moments looking at each other—so much said with their eyes. Yet Dusty was all too aware of the blood streaming down Ryder’s arm. Tears unashamedly escaping her eyes—for the thought of him in pain caused pain in her own soul—she reached down, lifted her skirt, and proceeded to tear a strip of cloth from her petticoat. Working quickly, she bound his wound. Even as his hand caressed the tears from her cheeks, she labored to ensure not one more drop of his precious blood would be lost.

  “Dusty,” he breathed.

  Gathering her into his arms, he led her away from the dead men on the ground, and they collapsed to their knees in a desperate embrace.

  “Dusty!” her father called. “Are you all right?” But she did not answer him. She was locked in Ryder’s arms. His mouth was sweeping her neck and shoulders with relieved, loving kisses.

  “Ryder,” she whispered, drawing his kiss to her mouth. Though their passion was unrestrained, their bodies were weak. Ryder gently pushed her down in the grass—continuing to ravish her with caresses and kisses.