Lonestar's Lady

by Deborah Camp

  “B-bailing you out?” she stuttered, stunned at his gall. She crossed her arms again and tapped one of her feet. The dog whined as if upset by the raised voices. “If I’d had ten gold coins in one pocket and ten more in the other, I wouldn’t have spent one of them on bailing you outta jail.” She delivered her most hatred-filled glare. “You swore to me that you weren’t a drinker! And that you were an undertaker and owned your own place of business. Lies. All lies!”

  “I woulda made good on all of it, if you had given me the chance,” he complained. “But you up and got yourself hitched to Max Lonestar of all people! You know he’s fresh outta prison, doncha? Or did he forget to tell you that?”

  “He told me. He’s not a liar like you.”

  “Ha!” He pointed a menacing finger at her. “All men are liars, darlin’. All men. I betcha he didn’t tell you that he had to be married to get this place, did he?”

  “Of course, he told me.” She gave a haughty sniff of contempt. “He’s not a bald-face liar.”

  “He’s an Injun.”

  “I know.”

  “And you still married him.” He swept off his hat and ran his hand through his thinning, black hair. “You must be mighty hard up. If you’d only waited a few days, we could have patched things up and this would be my land.”

  “You sent for me because you had to be a married man to claim this land. You forgot to mention that in the letters you wrote to me.”

  “I was gonna explain it all once you got here.” He waved a hand, sweeping aside the omission. “It’s no matter. You’ve messed in the bed and now you gotta sleep in the mess you made. I just wanted you to know that I don’t take kindly to what you did. You were promised to me.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “You took my money.” Another jab before leveling his index finger at her. “And you owe me, woman.”

  “Owe you?” She tipped back her head and barked out a laugh. “For what?”

  “The train ticket and my inconvenience.”

  Again, she had to laugh. “How in the heck did I inconvenience you, I’d like to know! I was the one stranded, left standing alone at the train station as night was falling. I was the one who made my way to Pear Orchard – a gal alone traveling the backroads and sleeping out in the open. You were the one drunk as a skunk in jail, safely tucked away until you were fit to stand before a judge. If anybody owes anybody, you owe me, except I want nothing from you, save your absence.”

  He had tried to bellow and interrupt her tirade, but she’d kept going, her voice rising to drown him out. Now he blustered, making noises but no words, as his face reddened and he balled his hands into fists.

  “Why, I oughta get down off this here horse and teach you a lesson in how to speak to a man better’n you.”

  She eyed the door, making sure she could get inside the house and lock him out before he could dismount, then she said with a slur in her tone, “What’s keeping you up there besides the fact that you’re all mouth and no guts?”

  His face darkened, flushed red with anger and malice. He grabbed the saddle horn to help leverage himself off the horse, but then he swung his face away. Gussie heard the heavy thump of hooves, too. Looking in that direction, she spied Lonestar astride one of the mules, eating up ground like he was on a sleek-footed ride.

  “Aww, yeah.” Babbitt’s hand slipped off the horn to rest on his thigh. “Here he comes. I figured he saw me riding this way.” Babbitt chuckled and sent her a glare. His face was still red and his eyes were mean. “You keep your fresh trap shut while me and him have a chin wag.”

  She issued a contemptuous snort as she stepped to the edge of the porch. Lonestar reined in Sarge and slid off his back before the mule could even plant his hooves good. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been the one running.

  “Here’s the traitor,” Babbitt smirked. “I knew you weren’t no friend of mine.”

  Lonestar whipped off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist. “What brings you here, Bob?”

  “Came to collect what this her gal owes me.”

  “Owes you?” His warning glance at Gussie stilled her tongue, but he turned to Babbitt with a hint of a grin. “Besides a swift kick in the backside, what do you think she owes you?”

  “I paid for her train ticket.” Babbitt glared down at Lonestar from the saddle. “As you know, she was supposed to be my wife and this was supposed to be my land, but you stole both from me. I figure you owe me, too.”

  Lonestar shrugged as he walked his fingers around his hat’s brim. “Yeah, well, if we all got what we thought we were supposed to have, we’d be as rich as kings and twice as happy.” He fitted his hat back onto his head and stepped up onto the porch to stand beside Gussie.

  “I’m owed, damn it!”

  “I can understand that you’re mad, Bob. Disappointments are as plentiful as feathers on a hen, but it’s foolish of you to ride up here expecting to be paid for her train ticket. She completed her part of the bargain. You’re the one who reneged.”

  Babbitt leaned on his saddle horn again. “No, I did not. I woulda married her if she’d just waited a few days. A fella can’t do much when he’s behind bars. But you’d know all about that, huh, Max? Yeah.” He glared at Gussie. “That didn’t bother you none? That he’d been in the penitentiary for killing a friend of his?”

  The air around Lonestar seemed to quiver and Gussie saw his jawline harden to stone. She sidled closer to him, brushing her arm against his to make him blink and take a deep breath. “As I said, he doesn’t lie or sugarcoat anything. You could learn from that.”

  “I’m not forgetting this,” Babbitt said, not even bothering to look at Gussie again. “Far as I can tell, you went behind my back and took my wife and my land when I was down on my luck. You’re going to wish you hadn’t crossed me, Max. There’s gonna be hell to pay.”

  “Do what you have to do, Bob.” Lonestar’s voice was hard and soft all at the same time. “You need to get on down the road. I have work to do and I don’t want you bothering Augusta again. She owes you nothing. Not one damn thing.”

  “Augusta.” Babbitt said it like a curse word, then he spat on the ground. “This ain’t over.” He reined the Appaloosa around and kicked her into a gallop.

  Gussie released a long breath when the horse turned onto the main road and made tracks away from their farm. She took in Lonestar’s frowning countenance, thinking it probably matched hers to a T. “First time I’ve seen him.”

  He let out a long sigh. “What’d you think?”

  “I think he’s a buffoon and that he’s the type to hold a grudge for a long spell.”

  “You’re right on both counts.” A grin hooked one corner of his mouth. “Are you sad that you didn’t get the chance to marry him?”

  She scoffed. “I’m crying fat tears, can’t you tell? Besides, I did have the chance. I could have waited until he was sprung from jail and went along with the agreement. But I discovered that he was exactly what I’d stated that I didn’t want in a spouse – a drinker and a liar. My pa was both and I was bound and determined to get away from that kind of man.”

  Sarge took that moment to shake from ears to tail and release a long, wheezing neigh that ended in a choppy bray. It startled both of them, but it scared Buster so bad that he squealed and scrambled off the porch with his tail between his legs. Lonestar laughed first and Gussie followed until her eyes brimmed with tears and her ribs ached. Sarge stared at them like they’d lost their minds. He stamped his front hooves and flung his head up and down in consternation.

  “I think he’s ready to either get back to work or get back to the corral,” Gussie said between giggles.

  “You know how to pick them, Augusta. Sarge is all business. He puts his head down and sets off along a row like he’s leading an army to battle. And if you think Sarge was loud just now, well, you haven’t heard General. That mule can bellow like a stuck pig. And the sounds he makes! I never heard such noises coming out of a domesticated anim
al.” He stepped off the porch and grabbed the mule’s reins. “Come on, big boy. Back to work.” With a quick jump and grunt, he swung up onto the mule’s broad back. “You all right, Augusta?”

  She straightened and gave him a nod. “Of course. You go on.” She glanced toward the white pup as he slouched back onto the porch to sit beside her. “I have this vicious dog here to keep trouble at bay.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” His brown eyes twinkled under the brim of his hat before he tapped the mule’s sides with his bootheels and directed him back toward the fields.

  Gussie watched until she could no longer see him, then she went to the tree swing and sat down, her thoughts circling like a carousel. Meeting Bob Babbitt in the flesh had shaken her more than she’d wanted to admit. He was nothing like she’d pictured him. She’d imagined a kind man, a gentle man. The kind of person who was a natural at comforting the bereaved. She’d thought that he was a well-respected person in Pear Orchard and the nearby towns. His voice, she’d decided, was most probably soft with a lilt to it, almost musical and certainly soothing. He’d be friendly, but not forward in any way.

  She figured that he’d be the kind to woo her gently, giving her time to get to know him and settle in before expecting anything more than a kiss or two. But, for all his gentleness, he would also be a man who stood up for what he believed and championed the downtrodden. He would make her feel safe – maybe even cherished. Absolutely appreciated!

  “He’s nothing like that,” she whispered, but then it struck her like a blow that she’d very nearly described the man she had ended up marrying. “Lonestar,” she whispered, enjoying the sound of it and what it conjured when she said it. His brown skin, midnight hair, earthy eyes, muscled body, and teasing nature.

  He was gentle, kind, considerate, and brave. And he was wooing her in his way. He had made good on his word not to force himself on her. She trusted him. Respected him.

  Shame filled her. She’d treated him poorly and he’d been nothing but solicitous to her. Several times lately she had known that he wanted to kiss her and each time she had turned aside, walked away, denied him. For ten nights, he had come to bed and not tried to caress her or cajole her into letting him have his husbandly rights. They both knew that she wouldn’t be able to stop him if he decided to take her. But they both knew that he wouldn’t do such a thing. He’d told her as much, and although she’d had her doubts at first, it wasn’t long before she’d realized he meant what he’d said.

  He would wait for her to want him. He would wait . . .

  Yearning blew through her, hot and strong, as she swung back and forth. A womanly ache bloomed in her belly and arrowed down to between her thighs and up to make her breasts feel heavy and tingly.

  She shouldn’t make him wait much longer, but she was still apprehensive. A smile stole across her lips when she recalled how he’d ridden up on that mule like a hero in a novel, bent on saving her from the loathsome Bob Babbitt. It touched her that he’d wanted to be sure she was all right.

  She owed Bob Babbitt not one coin, she thought with a frown. But she owed Lonestar. She released her breath in a long sigh. Oh, yes. She most surely did.

  Chapter 9

  “A fella’s going to come by here tomorrow from up by Altus.”

  Gussie looked up from the beans and cornbread in her plate at Lonestar. He kept his attention focused on shoveling food into his mouth. It had been a long day of hard work and hot sun. The supper had been a silent affair up to now with both of them going at the beans, cornbread, and fried fatback like hens after June bugs. She swallowed the mouthful of food before she asked, “What for?”

  “He’s going to look at the place where I’m thinking of planting grape vines and let me know if it’s a good patch of land for them. I’m buying some plants from him next spring.”

  She digested this bit of news with some misgiving and a lot of confusion. “Grapes? Why? We’re cotton farmers.”

  He sat back in the chair and swiped at his mouth with his handkerchief that did double duty as a napkin. “That, we are, but I’m interested in trying my hand at grapes. This fella – Han Hoffmeister – he’s got himself a big vineyard. Several fellas around Altus and Springfield are grape farmers and making money. The price paid for cotton keeps dipping, but grape prices are rising.”

  “How many people need grapes, though?” She shook her head. “I guess you can put them up as jam and such, but—.”

  “Yeah, that’s table grapes. I’m thinking of growing grapes for juice and wine.”

  That made her teeth click together. “Wine? Why in all that’s holy would you want to make wine?”

  “I don’t.” He stared hard at her. “I’m saying that people buying the grapes might make wine out of them if they’re of a good caliber. The plants I’m buying from Hoffmeister are top quality. If I can get them going, they could make all the difference in our pocketbooks in a few years.” He sighed. “Quit looking at me as if I’d just announced that I was going to open a saloon and become my best customer. It’s a crop like anything else we plant.”

  She set down her fork and spoon. “How long you been planning this?”

  He let a shrug answer for him.

  “How much will this set us back?”

  “He made me a good deal. He’s a decent man.”

  She picked up her fork again, realizing that his mind was made up, the deal was made, and anything she said wouldn’t change any of it. “Hope you know what you’re doing. How much land are you tilling for these grape plants?”

  “Not much. You know that land at the far south that gets hilly? I’ve tilled that ground and I’m hoping to plant there if Hoffmeister thinks it’ll do.”

  She arched a brow. “Seems like you’ve been thinking and planning on this for a spell.”

  “I have. Even before I bought this land, I’ve been interested in trying my hand at growing grapes. Someday I’ll take you to Hoffmeister’s and you can see for yourself how pretty the vineyards are there. Straight rows of staked vines for as far as the eye can see. Word is spreading that the farmers there are growing wine-making grapes.”

  “Mmmph.” She wrinkled her nose, thinking that grapes didn’t seem to be much use. Not like cotton. Everybody needed cotton.

  “That’s your say on it, is it?” He scowled and stood up. “I need to check on things. I’ll be sleeping in the barn tonight.”

  Her gaze flew up to his. “Why?”

  “Sarge seems a little under the weather. I want to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t get colicky.” He strode to the door, grabbed his hat off the peg, and left her to stare after him. She stacked the plates and glasses and set a kettle of water on the stove top to boil for dish water.

  As she washed and dried the supper dishes, she thought of the grape vines and tried not to be so sour on the idea. It was silly, she knew, to feel that they would be part of the spirit business that created drunks. Grapes, themselves, were responsible for tasty jams, jellies, and juice. Still, it rankled that he hadn’t discussed it with her. Just took it upon himself to make a deal with the man in Altus.

  Weren’t they supposed to be partners? This land was as much hers as it was his, by gosh!

  Miffed, she grabbed up the muslin and thread and sat close to the lantern to work on her new petticoat. It was slow going, seeing as how her ability with a needle and thread was hit and miss. She tried to take her time and make neat, close stitches as she wanted the petticoat to last her a good, long while. After almost an hour, her shoulders and fingers ached and her eyes burned. She set aside the sewing and looked out the window toward the barn. The faintest of light spilled out from the door. Glancing toward the bedroom, she acknowledged a wedge of discontent. She’d gotten used to him lying beside her, his big body brushing against hers and the rhythm of his breathing lulling her to sleep. Sometimes . . . well, often, she would awaken in the middle of the night and admire the planes and angles of his face as he slept. Moonlight would pool in light blue
shadows in the hallows of his cheeks and drape ribbons of pale cream along his strong jawline. His lashes, black and spiked, would flutter like raven wings against his skin as his mind spun dreams.

  In those minutes, she would swear that he was the most handsome man she’d ever set eyes on. Sometimes she would carefully lift her hand and allow her fingers to touch the black strands of his hair where it curled at his nape. Even his ears were perfectly shaped! But it was his mouth that always made her feel funny inside. Remembering those lips on hers – hot and hungry.

  Sighing, she stared at the barn and saw the faint light flicker out. He was sleeping with Sarge tonight. A pesky voice inside her suggested that Sarge wasn’t having any trouble a’tall. The trouble was between her and Lonestar. He didn’t want to sleep beside her tonight. Maybe not ever again.

  Clamping down on that notion, she marched into the bedroom and made ready for sleep. As she snuggled under the sheet, she told herself it was right nice to have the bed all to herself. She spread out her arms and legs to revel in it. But then his scent wafted up from the linens and tears scalded her eyes.

  “I miss him,” she whispered, blinking away the moisture that obscured her vision. “I hate it, but I miss him.”

  After an hour or so, she grabbed his pillow, hugged it close to her chest, and finally dozed off.

  When she opened her eyes again the first rays of sunlight crept over the windowsill and the rooster was crowing his fool head off. With a groan, Gussie flopped onto her back, arms outstretched. She gazed at the space beside her where Lonestar usually slept. A sigh of discontent escaped her before she set her mouth in a stubborn moue and flung herself out of bed to get dressed for the day.

  In the kitchen, she discovered that Lonestar was already up because a fire had been set in the cook stove and he’d filled the kettle and placed it on top to get the water boiling. He was thoughtful that way, she allowed, her feelings still stinging a little. Granted, the mule might have been a bit sickly, but down deep she doubted it. He just didn’t want to be in bed with her. If she wasn’t going to let him have his way, then he had decided to look for excuses to keep away from her.