Terrified and trembling, Freddy hopped around pulling on her boots, then ran through a cloud of dust to climb into the saddle and race after the stampeding cattle. It required every ounce of frail courage that she possessed.
Chapter 12
The moon was bright enough that Freddy couldn’t later claim that she was unable to see where she was going. It was sheer terror that drove Dal’s instructions out of her mind and led her to the right of the herd, where the dust and heat wasn’t as intense. Only the most experienced men worked the right. By the time she recalled that her assigned position was on the left, it was too late to make a correction.
Freddy’s heart lurched. Once the point men turned the lead steers, the herd could circle around, stampeding right toward her. Since she wasn’t experienced enough to turn the panicked steers into the next circle, the only thing to do now was take herself out of the action or risk ending up trapped in the center of a mill.
An image of the two dead steers who’d been trampled in the last stampede flashed through her mind as she jerked the reins of her horse hard, heading away from the terrible noise of clashing, clacking horns and pounding hooves. Digging her heels into her horse’s flanks, she galloped full out toward the dark emptiness of the open range, praying the stampede wouldn’t overtake her.
When her horse stumbled and went down, Freddy screamed, but she now had enough experience to roll out of the stirrups and off the saddle. In a flash she and her horse were both on their feet, Freddy almost sobbing with gratitude that she wasn’t injured. But when she dashed toward her horse, he bolted, speeding away in the darkness. Frozen in horror, she stood stock still, feeling the ground begin to shake beneath her boots.
The drovers had turned the point and the wild, uncontrolled herd was pounding straight toward her.
Relief flooded Dal’s chest when he grasped they’d caught this stampede early enough that they would bring it under control relatively quickly. Caleb Webster had already begun to turn the lead steers into a mill.
The big question was, where were Freddy and Les? They should be on the left helping to hold the herd together, but things had a way of going wrong during stampedes.
Leaning over his horse’s neck, he caught up with Caleb and the lead steers, and started to press them into a turn. At the head of the run there wasn’t much dust and the moon was bright enough that when he glanced ahead, he saw a figure on foot running toward the open range. When he saw the drover fall, he knew the man was as good as dead. He was directly in the path of the oncoming steers and couldn’t jump to his feet and run fast enough to avoid getting trampled.
Baring his teeth, Dal spurred his horse and hoped the buckskin could fly, hoped he didn’t go down, too. He wasn’t confident of anything until Bill and Daniel loomed in front of him, shouting and riding straight at the lead steers. The steers bore left to avoid the men and galloped into the mill. But the drover on foot was still in trouble. The drift of momentum would sweep the herd right over him.
Dal bore down on the man, then reined hard. Leaning, he gripped the drover by the arm and pulled him up. As the drover grabbed him from behind, he had a second to realize it was Freddy, then he urged the horse through the darkness, flying out onto the range, away from the swing of charging animals.
He didn’t stop until he was positive they were beyond the herd’s drift. Then he sat for a minute letting his heart settle back in his chest. Now he became aware of Freddy’s arms wrapped around his waist like a vise, felt her shaking along his back. Away from the din of hooves and horns, he could hear her quietly sobbing. Gently, he pried her fingers open and her arms fell away as if her bones had turned to sawdust. She slipped off his horse and collapsed to the ground, giving in to a storm of weeping.
Swinging to the ground, he muttered a curse, then staggered backward a step when she sprang up and threw herself against him. “My horse went down and ran off and I, oh God, I was so frightened, so terrified, I thought sure I would be killed and the ground was shaking so badly I could hardly stand, let alone run, and they were coming and I couldn’t get out of their way and—”
Her arms went around his waist again, hanging on like she wanted to melt into his bones and hide there. She had lost her hat, and the twine tying her hair had broken, releasing wild silky curls down her back and over her shoulders. He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her trembling body and murmured next to her temple.
“It’s over now, and you aren’t hurt or injured. Freddy, it’s all right.” The words came automatically, without thought, because the instant his arms went around her everything became physical. She was electric, vibrating against him, the heat and scent of her searing all thought from his mind. His hands moved on her back, rubbing the taut muscles rising along the valley of her spine, and his chest tightened beneath the crush of her breasts. When her hips moved against his, his body responded with an instant, powerful arousal.
She raised her head, bringing her lips an inch from his. “I’m sorry I lost my horse, he—”
“It happens,” he said gruffly. In the moonlight, her damp eyes were dark and bottomless, a mystery as ancient as the earth. Her chest still heaved, each gasping breath thrusting her breasts against him. He slid his fingers to her slender waist, letting his hands rest briefly on the swell of her hips, his breath quickening. And he knew the exact moment when she became aware that she was in his arms, locked against him, knew the moment she felt his hard urgent arousal and understood that he wanted her. Her eyes flared and she gasped softly, her gaze dropped to his lips.
If she had stepped away, the incident would have ended right there. But she was as paralyzed as he was, as ready for this inevitable moment as he had been. She stood motionless, breathing hard as he slid the warmth of his hands up her rib cage, letting his thumbs come to rest beneath her breasts, feeling the weight of soft flesh on the backs of his hands. A low groan scraped the back of his throat as her breath hitched, then flowed over his lips, and her hips returned the pressure of his. His mind exploded.
Instinct overwhelmed him and he dropped his hands to cup the sweet curve of her buttocks and he molded her tightly against his erection. When she felt him rock against her, her eyelids fluttered, a soft moan came from her throat, and her body sagged. Together they sank to their knees, then she opened her eyes and her lips parted. “Dal…”
He kissed her then, not gently, not tenderly. He didn’t kiss her to comfort her. He took her mouth hungrily, almost savagely, wanting to punish her for having a body that tormented him, for telling him that his last kiss had meant nothing, needed to punish her for letting scum like Jack Caldwell call her honey, and for ever thinking about a man who wasn’t him.
This time she wasn’t motionless in his arms. Her hands flew to the sides of his face and she kissed him back, suddenly as wild and hungry and crazy as he was. As if she had awakened in the moonlight to find herself alive and needing to feel, she threw her arms around his neck and lunged forward, knocking him flat on the ground. Mouth locked to hers, he caught her by the waist, rolled her over and kissed her deeply, wildly, exploring her lips and mouth with his tongue, catching fire when he felt her pliant body wiggling beneath him. Wrapped together, they rolled on the ground, legs tangling, hands clutching and grabbing, rubbing against each other, driving each other wild and half-mad with desire and touching and moonlit craziness.
He found her breasts with his hands and dropped his lips to her arching throat, tasting dust and woman sweat and a trace of something that reminded him of apples. She tore his shirt at the throat, ripping it downward, and slipped her hands inside, her fingers like brands of fire across his skin. One minute she was straddling him, the next minute he’d rolled on top of her. It was like a dam had burst within them both, releasing a flood tide of desire and urgency. And God help him, he would have taken her right there on the ground with a stampede winding down a hundred yards behind them.
Desperate to suck her breasts into his mouth, he was about to rip open her shirt
when a steer ran out of the darkness and galloped past them not six feet away. The longhorn was almost upon them before Dal registered the sound, smell, and the tremble in the earth beneath his knees.
Disoriented and struggling to catch his breath, he jumped to his feet, his first thought that the herd had turned and was thundering toward them, that they were about to be trampled into the range dirt. Another animal was headed in their direction, but it was a horse chasing the muley who had peeled out from the edges of the mill. Drinkwater reined up. “Need a hand, boss?”
“Freddy got tossed. We lost our horses,” he growled, noticing that his horse was gone too. “We’ll walk in.” He watched Drinkwater ride after the muley, then he combed his fingers through his hair and extended a hand to help Freddy to her feet. Hazy moonlight revealed bits of grass and twigs caught in the wild tangles of her hair. Her shirttail had pulled out of her trousers and her lips were swollen. A quick look down at himself revealed a torn shirt and unmistakable grass stains on his knees. He had no idea where his hat or his horse were.
As his mind cleared the full enormity of what he had done washed over him. He’d forgotten about a stampede, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t believe it. All the time he’d been rolling on the ground with this woman, the earth had been shaking and men were shouting, and he hadn’t noticed.
Shocked, he said the first thing that came into his mind. “This can’t happen again.”
She looked up from tucking in her shirt and putting herself in order. “Are you claiming what we just did didn’t mean anything this time either?” Her chin came up in a warning.
He slid a slow look over her breasts and down her hips. “You know damned well it meant something.” And he didn’t like it. Sex had no place on a cattle drive. There were enough problems on the trail without stirring women into the mix. What he hadn’t anticipated was how seeing this woman every day would get under his skin and drive him crazy.
“Where’s our camp?”
“About two miles that way.” The drovers were still milling the herd, but the stampede was winding down. In the distance, he spotted the glow of two campfires.
Even though they stood on the open range with nothing near them, she elbowed him in the ribs to move him out of her way rather than step around him. Setting a line for the distant campfires, she shoved past, walking fast enough that he knew she was angry.
“What’s eating you?” he asked, catching up.
“It meant something, but it can’t happen again. I’m thinking about that.”
“It’s a long way to Abilene, Freddy. If you and I start something, others are sure to find out about it.”
“And you don’t want anyone to know that you’ve taken up with some low character like me?” She spit the words between her teeth. “Well you’re no prize either, Frisco. Maybe I don’t want anyone to know I almost made a mistake with you!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” He had to lengthen his stride to keep up with her.
“You’re like all the rest. You think a woman who’s been onstage is easy pickings, so you took advantage of how scared I was.”
When he stopped to stare, she moved out ahead of him. “You’re not making sense. I did not take advantage of you!”
“Oh? You can’t take advantage of a whore or an actress because they’re already ruined? Is that what you’re saying?”
This was the thing about women that he most hated. They twisted a man’s words into a hangman’s knot.
He gripped her shoulders and leaned down to stare into her face. “We’re not taking another step until you tell me what the hell is going on here.”
“You tell me what’s going on here!”
“Freddy, I honest to God don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well don’t worry,” she snarled before she wrenched out of his hands. “This won’t happen again. You can count on it, you son of a bitch!”
It took him a mile of steady walking, watching her fanny in the moonlight, before he figured it out and moved up beside her.
“The reason I said we couldn’t do this again—”
“We won’t,” she snapped.
“Is because I need to keep my mind on business and so do you. This drive is crucially important to both of us. I can’t be distracted thinking about getting you alone somewhere when I should be thinking about tomorrow’s problems.” Already he suspected that sex could be more destructive than liquor ever had been. Even in his drinking days, he hadn’t forgotten a stampede that was occurring a few yards away. He wouldn’t have believed such a lapse was possible.
“Like I said. You took advantage of a vulnerable moment, treated me like a whore, and now that you’ve satisifed your curiosity, you’re taking the high road. Making me feel used.”
Grabbing her shoulders, he spun her around. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you, and I don’t apologize for that. I’m going to be wanting you for a long time to come, and I don’t apologize for that either. But nothing is going to happen between you and me on this drive. After the drive… that’s different.” He was starting to get mad himself.
“Nothing’s going to happen later or anytime!” She wrenched out from under his hands. “As a matter of fact I was using you. I was acting back there, practicing a scene. So don’t flatter yourself that I’m holding my breath waiting for the next time busy dedicated you can find a moment to take your pleasure. What happened was a scene from Home on the Range. I’ve worked out the scene now, and I don’t need you anymore.”
He was about eighty percent certain that she was lying. Nevertheless, her comments stung exactly as she had intended them to.
“Were you acting with Caldwell, too, Fancy honey?” he said sharply. “Practicing an interior seduction scene?”
When she didn’t say anything, he knew he’d scored a point. Jealousy, sudden and hot, burned his chest. He couldn’t stand to think about Caldwell kissing her, putting his hands on her. He couldn’t tolerate the thought of any man touching her.
“Jack was a mistake,” she said finally. “I seem to be very good at making mistakes.”
He wanted to know just how much of a mistake Caldwell had been. How far had it gone between them? “Caldwell doesn’t seem to think so. From what I heard, he believes the two of you are going to get real cozy on this drive. Pick up where you left off, I believe he said. Just where was that, Freddy? Where did you leave off with that son of a bitch?”
She whirled on him. “Jack’s a gambler, a womanizer, a man with the morals of a snake. But he’s also the only man in Klees who was willing to be seen in public with me! The only reason no one knew I was seeing him is because I wanted it that way. Not him. Knowing that he didn’t give a damn what other people thought about him or me meant the world to me! I’ll always be grateful to Jack Caldwell because he came to my door when I thought I was dying of loneliness and he reminded me that some men don’t believe every actress is a whore!”
Dal would be picking her speech apart and thinking about it for a long time.
“As for getting cozy with Jack on this drive,” she continued, practically nose to nose with him, “that isn’t going to happen because he’s Lola’s next husband and because I don’t trust him. I’m finished with him, and, mister, I’m finished with you!”
Dal let her stamp off and followed a few paces behind. Her defense of Caldwell ate at him, and he didn’t like it that she assumed he condemned her for going onstage. Finally, he had inexplicably shifted from “This can’t happen again” to wanting her so much that his groin ached. It was a relief to reach the campsite and get away from her.
As usual after a stampede, everyone in camp was awake and stirred up. The first person he saw was Jack Caldwell. Caldwell, Luther, and Hamm had come to the main camp and stood near the chuck wagon drinking coffee and watching Alex swab out a gash on Dan Clouter’s thigh. Caldwell watched Freddy stride toward the coffeepot hanging over the fire.
Frowning, Dal made himself fo
cus on business instead of taking a swing at Caldwell as he wanted to. He turned his gaze on Daniel Clouter. “How bad?”
Daniel had dropped his pants and long johns so Alex could doctor the gash, and he stood hunched over, his hands cupped over his privates, his face flaming. “Not too bad,” he said between his teeth, sucking in a breath as Alex washed out a four-inch cut with medicinal alcohol. She leaned forward in her wheelchair, her face stony and concentrated on the job at hand.
“Anyone else get hurt?” he asked her, watching Freddy out of the corner of his eyes.
After reporting several minor injuries, Alex looked up. “Are we going to have midnight stampedes all the way to Abilene?”
“Possibly. But you’re handling it just fine.” Alex continued to surprise him. She wasn’t much of a cook, he didn’t know if she ever would be, but she did manage to put out a meal. He was beginning to rely on Alex to maintain a cool head in any crisis that didn’t directly threaten her. Maybe she fell apart after she’d doctored the boys and after every meal, maybe she wept in the privacy of her bedroll, but when duty called, she grimly did what was needed.
“Your horse came back to the remuda, and one of the Webster boys brought in Freddy’s mare,” Grady said, coming up to him. Grady grinned at Dan’s efforts to cover his privates, then he slid a look toward Dal, jerked his head toward the remuda, and walked away.
Dal followed, ready to choose a fresh mount and ride out to help the drovers untangle the mill. There was no need to explain to Grady how he and Freddy had lost their horses. The only thing unusual about a rider getting tossed during a wild ride in the darkness was that neither of them had brought back an injury to anything but their pride. “I’ll take the roan,” he said.
Grady nodded, but he didn’t walk into the herd of horses right away. “What do you know about that Caldwell fella?” he asked, biting off a chunk of tobacco and tucking it inside his cheek.
The Best Man Page 17