To Tame A Texan

by Georgina Gentry

  “Aw, Ma, give me a little something to look forward to.”

  Trace called from his easy chair. “You heard your mother. You know no one else will ask that poor little filly to dance, so don’t you abandon her.”

  It was going to be a long, long evening, Ace decided glumly.

  “Of course,” his mother said, straightening his tie, “if you could get your friends to fill her dance card so she’d look popular, that would be very nice.”

  “That’d turn my friends to enemies,” Ace sighed. “Just remember, Ma, you and I are even after this.”

  “Until the next time you get yourself in a mess.” Ma brushed off the lapel of his expensive black coat.

  “I’ve learned my lesson,” Ace declared. “I’m a reformed man.”

  Dad snorted from his chair and picked up the newspaper.

  “Double damnation, son,” his mother scolded, “you might just have a good time tonight.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ace said without enthusiasm.

  “Oh, dear . . .” Ma pursed her lips. “I forgot about flowers. Go down to the lobby and get her a corsage. I think I saw a vendor out on the street.”

  “And don’t forget to come back,” Dad yelled.

  Ma gave him her steely gaze. “Of course he’ll come back. Ace is too much of a gentleman to stand up a lady, aren’t you, son?”

  Frankly, the idea seemed very appealing at the moment. “I said I’d take her, and a Texan’s word is good as gold.”

  “Have a good time, then.” His mother pushed him toward the door.

  Good time. Hah. “I’d have a better time if I could go alone. Why aren’t you and Dad and Maverick and Aunt Cayenne going to this thing?”

  “Because your father hates the governor; he thinks he’s an idiot. And of course, Aunt Cayenne is in the family way. So go represent our families and be your usual charming self.”

  “Lynnie doesn’t think I’m charming,” Ace complained.

  Ma laughed. “Now that’s a first, isn’t it? You’re used to every woman in Texas finding you irresistible.”

  He had to admit it was true. Lynnie McBride didn’t seem to find him charming; in fact, she didn’t even seem to find him slightly likable. But then, he figured Lynnie felt that way about most men. “I don’t know why Lynnie even wants to go to this dance.”

  “I don’t, either.” Ma looked puzzled. “Maybe she’s finally decided she wants to get married. After all, most of the most prominent, eligible bachelors in Texas will be there tonight.”

  Ace rolled his eyes. “Like I said, Ma, after tonight, you and me are even. I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “Sure you have, dear. Now get along with you.” She pushed him out the door and closed it.

  Reluctantly Ace went down the stairs to the lobby and found the flower vendor. He hadn’t the least idea what to buy, but the bright red roses reminded him of the barmaid’s lips, so he chose those. Then he stopped at the bar and had two more drinks to steel himself. He took a deep breath and imagined Lynnie coming out still wearing rags in her hair, goo on her face, and that tacky bathrobe and fluffy slippers. He looked down at the flowers in his hand, wondering idly if Lynnie would insist he pin them on her. Maybe he could stick her with the pin and claim it was an accident.

  Holding his corsage, he walked slowly up the stairs, weaving slightly So this was what it felt like to walk toward the hangman. He was going to be disgraced tonight; he was sure of it—escorting the prim old maid to this ball where everyone in Texas would know about it. There was no telling what she’d be wearing and what she’d look like.

  Taking a deep breath, Ace rapped on the hotel door.

  Lynnie opened it. “Ace Durango, you’re late. I was beginning to wonder if you were coming at all.”

  He was weaving only slightly as he stared at her. She looked different, very different indeed. Lynnie wore a fluffy pink dress of some soft fabric. Her reddish hair was pulled back in a twist of curls. Of course, being a respectable girl, she wore no makeup, but somehow, the freckles across her clean, shiny face looked appealing, and the lashes around those green eyes were quite long. She was slender, but the front of her ball gown was filled out nicely.

  “Stop looking at my bosom,” she snapped. “I swear, you men only think about one thing.”

  With Lynnie? Not on your life.

  “Uh, you look nice,” he mumbled awkwardly, and thrust out the flowers. “I brought you a corsage.”

  “You look nice, too.” She acted hesitant, which was unusual for Lynnie, and he realized that she was not used to men calling on her. He almost pitied her: twenty years old and probably had never been invited out by any man—the ultimate old maid. “Thanks for the flowers.”

  She took them, and he realized suddenly that they clashed with her dress. How stupid of him, not remembering to ask the color of her dress. He’d always been so smooth with women. It wasn’t like him to make such a blunder. “You don’t have to wear them,” he mumbled.

  Now she became the Lynnie he remembered. “Wear them? Of course I’m going to wear them. Well, don’t just stand there; come in.” She gestured and stepped backward. The dim light on her delicate features made her almost pretty.

  Pretty? Ace, my boy, you really have had too much to drink.

  Lynnie took a deep breath and wrinkled her nose. “You smell like a distillery.”

  “Sorry.” He took a deep breath and realized she smelled of some delicate floral scent. “You want me to pin the corsage on?”

  “So you can paw my bosom? Not on your life. I’ll pin it on myself, thank you.”

  He felt the flush creep up his rugged face. Okay, so he had touched a few girls in inappropriate places when he pinned flowers to their dresses, while they giggled with delight. The thought crossed his mind that probably Lynnie had never giggled in her life, and if he was reckless enough to touch Lynnie McBride’s bosom, she would certainly poke her small fist in his eye. He looked around and realized the whole family was standing in the background watching. “Well, we’d better be goin’.”

  “I’ll get my shawl and bag.”

  He watched her glide away and thought she was graceful and not too bad-looking—at least not coyote ugly. Maybe he could bribe some of his friends to dance with her so he wouldn’t be saddled with her all evening. There were plenty of fellows who owed him a favor or a gambling debt. “Where’s your spectacles?”

  “In my purse.”

  “Don’t you need them?”

  “Only if I want to see,” she answered matter-of factly “This is going to be an interesting evening; I’m sure of it.”

  “At least a very long evening.” He offered her his arm and imagined a ballroom full of beautiful, desirable women—and he was stuck with prim Lynnie McBride. Ace almost groaned aloud. Well, the dance wouldn’t last forever.

  Maverick stepped forward. “Remember, Ace, this is a member of my family.” His voice held a warning edge. “I’ll expect you to be a perfect gentleman.”

  What was Uncle Maverick hinting at? Oh, surely he didn’t mean . . .? With Lynnie?

  “I’ll bring her home early,” he assured his step-uncle.

  “Not too early,” Aunt Cayenne said.

  If he got rid of Lynnie soon enough, he might still have a chance with the blowsy, big-bosomed barmaid with the red, red lips. That thought cheered Ace a little.

  “I’ve got a carriage waiting downstairs,” he said, and they went out the door and down the hall, heading for the big Valentine dance at the governor’s mansion.

  Three

  It was a crisp but clear night as the horse and carriage clopped along the street from the hotel.

  Ace sighed. This was going to be a long, long evening. Even if some beauty did show up at the ball, Ace was under orders not to abandon Lynnie. Lynnie’s delicate fragrance was overpowered by the scent of the roses and liquor.

  Lynnie sniffed with disdain. “Just how much bourbon did you consume?”

  “Not nearly enough,” he snap
ped back, then instantly regretted his words. A Texan was gallant to the bone, even when he wanted to wring a lady’s neck. With any other girl on such a chilly night, Ace would have used the cold as an excuse to cuddle closer, maybe steal a kiss or two. He glanced sideways at Lynnie. She sat ramrod stiff, her mouth firm with disapproval. He didn’t figure she’d ever been kissed in her whole life except by her father and maybe her little nephews. Ace didn’t intend to be the first.

  All that broke the silence was the creaking of the carriage wheels.

  “So,” she said, evidently attempting conversation, “how are things at the Triple D Ranch?”

  He stifled a drunken yawn. “’Bout the same as they are at the Lazy M, I reckon: just cows and more cows.”

  Another long moment of awkward silence. In the moonlight, he could see Lynnie chewing her lip. She didn’t look very happy to be heading for a big ball. Other girls would have been engaging him in silly, giggling conversation. Lynnie was as stern as a hanging judge.

  “So remind me again why your father is called Trace.”

  Even this feeble attempt at conversation was better than strained silence. “Uh, Dad is Diego de Durango the Third. He’s half Spanish, and tres is Spanish for three.”

  “Well, then it seems logical that if you’re Diego de Durango the Fourth, you should be called Cuatro.”

  “I like playin’ cards,” Ace said, and wished he had a little flask to sip on, “so that’s the reason for my nickname.”

  “I hear you spend a lot of time in saloons and gambling halls.” She sounded stiff, disapproving.

  “Well, that’s where men play cards.” He grinned at her.

  Another long period of silence that was cooler than the temperature inside the creaking carriage.

  “I—I appreciate your volunteering to take me to the ball,” Lynnie said. “I’ve never been to one before.”

  He almost told her that his mother had volunteered him, then decided it would be terribly ungallant. “So why’d you decide on this one?”

  Lynnie hesitated. “The governor and most of the legislators and other influential men in town will be there.”

  “Dad says the governor is an idiot.”

  “I think so, too.” Lynnie smiled and fidgeted nervously with her small handbag.

  When she smiled, she didn’t look half bad, but then, he knew he’d had too much to drink, so he didn’t trust his judgment at the moment. As they used to say at the cantina: “All the women get purtier at closing time.”

  “Thunderation, it’s cold,” Lynnie said.

  He might have taken that as an offer to cuddle from some other female, but from straitlaced Miss McBride, he was sure she was just filling the silence.

  “Lynnie,” he said kindly, “ladies don’t usually use a word as strong as ‘thunderation.’ They say ‘goodness gracious’ or ‘mercy me.’”

  She fixed him with a green, nearsighted stare. “‘Mercy me’ sounds sissy and idiotic. It’s the kind of thing that addle-brained Emmalou Purdy would say. You know, she’s my oldest pupil.”

  Lordy, Emmalou Purdy. He sighed wistfully as he pictured the pretty, buxom girl. He’d like to be her teacher. On the other hand, there wasn’t much he could teach that lusty girl.

  The carriage pulled up and halted in the drive of the governor’s mansion. From inside, light streamed through all the windows, and as the big front doors opened to accept new arrivals, Ace heard a faint melody drifting on the cold air. Carriages were everywhere, with people all decked out in their finest arriving for the evening. There would be lots of beautiful girls at this dance, and here he was stuck with prim Lynnie McBride. Ma drove a mighty hard bargain.

  The driver came around, put down the step, and opened the door. Ace stepped out and reached to help Lynnie down. She stumbled, and he had to catch her by both arms. She was stiff to his touch. “Unhand me, you scoundrel.”

  He stood her on her feet. “Lynnie, if you’d put on your spectacles, you wouldn’t trip over the step.”

  “And if you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t notice my tripping.”

  Oh, Lordy. He took her arm in case she tripped over the entry steps, and they went inside. Down the ornate stairs floated music, much laughter, and talk. The butler took their wraps. “Ballroom on the second floor, sir.”

  He wasn’t sure just how much Lynnie could see without her spectacles; she looked as blind as a newborn kitten. In fact, for a moment, she seemed almost fearful and very vulnerable. Lynnie? She could cut a man to pieces with just her sharp wit, he thought glumly. He took her elbow as he escorted her up the stairs. It wouldn’t do to have her trip and fall all the way down in a tangle of pink silk and petticoats.

  Many a young lady turned and gave him her best and most inviting smile, and out of force of habit, Ace smiled back. If he could palm his lady off on some luckless hombre, maybe Ace would get a dance or two with some of these eager beauties. He paused in the doorway of the big ballroom and watched the dancers sway gracefully to the music. “Lynnie, would you like some punch?”

  “I suppose so.” She acted a bit bewildered, and he remembered that she hadn’t had much in the way of a social life. Well, it was her own damned fault for being so prudish and smart. Ace parked her against a wall and ambled over to the punch bowl. Half a dozen fellows he knew were standing about, ogling the arriving young ladies.

  Ace nodded to several of them. “Hey, hombres, good night for a dance.”

  Bob Anderson nodded. He was a bit of a dandy, Ace thought. “I came stag so I could choose among the girls.”

  “Me, too,” Sam and Howard said. “What about you, Ace?”

  Before he could answer, Bob laughed. “Didn’t you see? He’s escorting Lynnie McBride. What’d it take to get you to do that, Ace?”

  He almost admitted that his own mother had called in her marker on him; then he looked toward Lynnie looking a bit forlorn, and his heart softened a little. “I’ve had enough of brainless beauties. Lynnie can talk about politics and all sorts of stuff.”

  “Since when does a man want to talk to a girl?” Willis Forrester joined them. He was older and had menacing blue-green eyes as hard as turquoise. “I brought Emmalou Purdy; you know, the one with the big . . .” He didn’t finish, and the others laughed knowingly. He looked Ace up and down. “I wager Durango’s dad forced him to bring the schoolmarm.”

  The Forresters and the Durangos were old enemies, and Ace frowned at the other man—a little too handsome and dressed in the latest styles from back east. “Forrester, you should be so lucky to get accepted as an escort for a smart girl like Lynnie. Why, she’s even graduated from college.”

  Forrester sneered. “And just how does that help in the bedroom?”

  The others laughed, but Ace grabbed Forrester’s arm. “Watch your mouth, hombre.”

  “All right, all right.” The other threw up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that knowing your reputation with the ladies, we’re all surprised to see you escorting that prim old maid.”

  His reputation was on the line. All four of the men looked at him. He almost weakened then and told them how his mother had forced him to bring Uncle Maverick’s spinster sister-in-law, but he looked across the floor at Lynnie, standing there by herself among the more beautiful girls, and for the first time in his life he almost pitied her. “I’m tired to death of brainless women who have nothin’ to offer but good looks and hot kisses.” He waited a moment to see if heaven would strike him down for his brazen lie, then breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t happen.

  He waited until Forrester had walked away, then turned on the other three. “Miss McBride’s dance card probably isn’t full, if you three are wantin’ to hurry over and ask her.”

  Nobody moved.

  Ace frowned. “I said, she might have room on her dance card for three fellows that still owe me money from our last poker game.”

  They looked at him. Then they turned and looked toward Lynnie standing f
orlornly yet defiantly across the ballroom.

  “I might even forgive a gambling debt to a man who’d do the gentlemanly thing.”

  All three looked as if they were surveying a hangman’s noose. With a sigh, all three started across the floor toward Lynnie.

  Humming to himself with satisfaction, Ace got two cups of punch, tasted his, and grimaced. Well, maybe someone in the crowd had a bottle of bourbon; that would improve the flavor to a Texan’s taste. As he stood there watching his friends crowd around Lynnie, Emmalou Purdy minced across the floor and brushed up against him.

  “Why, Ace Durango, mercy me,” she giggled. “I do hope you’re plannin’ on askin’ little old me to dance.”

  He bowed gallantly. “I do hope, Miss Purdy, you’ll save me a place on your dance card.” He relished the idea of rubbing up against those big bosoms, if only for a few minutes.

  “That I’ll surely do.” She giggled again and floated across the floor toward Willis Forrester, who was frowning at Ace.

  Ace looked over the beauties on the dance floor with a sigh before sauntering back over to where Lynnie stood. “Enjoying yourself?”

  “Your friends came over and asked me to dance,” she said almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

  What he’d done made him feel good inside. He’d feel much better when he got to dance with some of the other girls during those three dances. “Uh, they all want a chance to dance with a smart girl, Lynnie. All these others have is looks.” He was looking down into the top of her ball gown and decided she wasn’t as flat-chested as he’d first thought.

  “Stop staring at my bosom,” Lynnie snapped as she accepted the punch.

  He was startled that she was so straightforward. He’d never experienced such honesty from a girl. “I wasn’t staring.”

  “Yes, you were. Besides, my corset top is stuffed with hankies. That’s what you’re licking your chops at.”

  He felt a mite foolish. “I don’t know what to say to a girl who’s frank enough to tell me something like that.”

  “You didn’t know?” She snorted. “Why, half the girls in this room have hankies or socks stuffed in the top of their ball gowns to fill them out.”