Ace leaned against the big beer keg next to Dad in the courtyard, where dozens of men drank and tossed horseshoes. He looked toward the drive, where buggies were arriving. Uncle Maverick’s buggy had just pulled up, and lots of noisy red-haired children were piling out of it. He sighed, only a little happy from too much beer, and watched Lynnie, wearing a green gingham dress, sitting in the buggy. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore her spectacles.
His dad nudged him. “There they are; mind what your mother said.”
“I remember,” Ace grumbled, and ambled toward the buggy. He almost felt sorry for the old maid. She looked a little hesitant, as well she might be in facing a big crowd after all the scandal.
Cayenne, with a baby in her arms, passed him. “Wait till you see what she’s wearing. I just couldn’t talk her out of it.”
Ace nodded and ambled out to the buggy. Maverick had just unloaded many red-haired children and now picked up a picnic basket, nodded to Ace, and headed for the house.
Ace stood looking up at Lynnie, swaying a little on his feet. “You need help gettin’ down?”
“You look like you’re about to fall down yourself,” Lynnie sniffed, “and you smell like a brewery.”
He started to say something but thought better of it. He realized he wasn’t as quick-witted as the strait-laced schoolteacher, and the thought annoyed him. Nevertheless, he reached up and put his hands on her slim waist, helping her down. She smelled good. Without thinking, he leaned closer and sniffed again.
“Will you stop that?” Lynnie snapped, backing away, “you’re fogging my spectacles, snuffling me like a hungry hound looking for a biscuit.”
If he weren’t a gentleman, it would be so satisfying to pick her up and toss her into the big fountain in the courtyard. That would get him in mucho trouble with his parents, to say nothing of Uncle Maverick. Now he looked askance at her costume. “Lordy, what an outfit. Lynnie, your dress is too short; your underpants are showin’.”
Lynnie drew herself up primly. “These are bloomers, Mr. Durango, created by Amelia Bloomer as a protest garment for women’s rights many years ago.”
He leaned on the buggy and grinned. “So Miss Amelia protested by showin’ her drawers?”
“Thunderation, I don’t know why I bother.” She turned to unload some of the food in the buggy. Even when he was drunk, Ace was handsome and so strong, Lynnie thought with annoyance, certain his parents had sent him out to meet her. She looked around with some trepidation into the warm afternoon of the Durango rancho. The barbecue was going to be a huge event, all right. Buggies and wagons were tied up at every hitching post, and crowds gathered around the great fountain in the courtyard and the big keg of beer over by the adobe wall. It seemed to her that everyone had paused to stare at her. No doubt it was common gossip about the scandal she had created. Well, she didn’t give a fig. The cause was all that was important.
Her older sister, Cayenne, holding the baby, Joey, yelled from the courtyard. “Lynnie, can you get those pies?”
“Certainly.” Lynnie nodded as her nieces, nephews, and younger sisters scattered across the courtyard, yelling to friends. She looked at the food in the back of the buggy. She wasn’t about to ask this drunken brute for his help. Defiantly, she took a coconut cake in one hand and a rhubarb pie in the other, stuck her nose in the air, and started across the courtyard.
“Can I help you with that?” Ace blocked her path. He was taller and more broad-shouldered than she remembered, but one thing she hadn’t forgotten was the arrogant cockiness of the man, as if he were God’s gift to women.
“May,” she corrected automatically, “May I help you with that?”
“I’m offerin’ to tote that stuff to the kitchen.” He grinned, obviously unaware he was being corrected, or maybe not caring.
“You’d probably drop things,” Lynnie said primly, “and besides, you’re so drunk, you couldn’t hit the ground with your hat in three tries.”
He winked at her. “Not as drunk as I’m gonna be later tonight.”
Lynnie paused, tempted. It occurred to her that to hit him with the coconut cake might be soul-satisfying, but it would be the waste of a delicious cake that she had worked hours baking. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying this, thank you.”
His rugged face lit up. “Is that rhubarb? My favorite.”
Had she remembered that? Of course not! “If I’d known, I’d have brought apple instead.”
“Like that, too.” He grinned down at her.
“Leave me alone,” she commanded, and resumed her march toward the kitchen, green skirts swishing.
He trailed along beside her, his long legs easily keeping up with her shorter steps. “Dad said I was to help you; you wouldn’t want to get me in trouble, would you?”
“How tempting, although I suspect that with you, Ace Durango, you’re usually in trouble anyway.”
He looked too drunk to be insulted as he took the pie away from her. “Didn’t know you could cook—especially rhubarb pie.”
They continued their walk toward the kitchen through the curious crowd. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Ace.”
“Lordy, girl, you’re the derndest thing I ever met. All the other girls here are gigglin’ and being agreeable.”
“The silly dolts are trying to attract your attention,” Lynnie said as they entered the big rancho. “All they want out of life is a husband.”
“And you don’t want one?”
“I have bigger plans in mind,” Lynnie said loftily, “and it doesn’t include continual cooking and cleaning up after some big, dirty ox like you.”
“Lynnie, you sure know how to hurt a fellow.” He followed her into the kitchen.
Lynnie ignored him while nodding to the women bustling about the kitchen. “Hello, all.”
Aunt Cimarron raised her gaze from a huge platter of deviled eggs she was finishing up. “Well, hello, Lynnie. I see Ace couldn’t wait to give you a hand. Remember to save him a dance later this evening.”
Lynnie put the cake down, feeling hesitant. “I doubt very many men are going to ask me to dance tonight.”
“Oh,” Aunt Cimarron nodded, “I’m sure all Ace’s friends will want to dance with you, so he can’t hog all your evening, right, son?”
“Uh, right.” Ace put the rhubarb pie on the table next to the dozens of other pies and fled the kitchen. Lordy, he thought as he stumbled away, if I don’t get some of the hombres to dance with her, I’ll be stuck with her all evening—and there were dozens of local beauties here to choose from. Now just who owed him a favor?
Inside the kitchen, Lynnie made herself useful. There were mounds of barbecue sandwiches, plates piled high with homemade pickles and hot Texas relishes, mountains of potato salad, and pans of spicy baked beans and platters of steaming Mexican food.
“Really, Lynnie,” Aunt Cimarron protested, “you go out and mix with the other young people and leave all this to us old married ladies. I hope you don’t mind if I invited members of your school board. I thought, in a better mood, they might reconsider.”
“I doubt that.”
Aunt Cimarron was looking at her dress with raised eyebrows.
“They’re bloomers,” Lynnie said without being asked. She didn’t really want to leave the safety of the kitchen, knowing people outside were gossiping about her; in spite of her careless demeanor, it really hurt. If it hadn’t been for the cause, she would have been quite shy. “I’ll go find my friend Penelope.”
She started out the back door, past the big tubs of iced lemonade. Children ran and chased each other, laughing and calling. Ladies sat on spread-out quilts, playing with babies and visiting. Lynnie rounded a corner and plowed right into Ace’s chest. He reeked of beer and he embraced her without really looking down. “Oh, honey, you smell good,” he murmured, and tried to pull her closer, kissing her neck.
“Ace Durango, have you lost your mind?” And she slapped him hard.
He stumbled backward, rubbing his cheek. “I reckon I did for a moment.” The frown that crossed his handsome face gave her a funny feeling that she couldn’t quite put a name to. Was it anger or just disappointment?
“Who’d you think it was, one of your saloon tarts?”
He drew himself up, weaving slightly. “I’ll have you know that respectable women like me, too.”
“So I’ve heard, but damned if I can see why.”
“I never heard a lady cuss before.”
“That’s because you don’t spend much time around ladies, Ace. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
He caught her arm. “You’re the only girl I know who don’t think I’m charmin’.”
“Doesn’t.” She corrected automatically. “Drunken cowboys are not my type. I’d prefer a smart and responsible gentleman. Let go of my arm.”
“You don’t think I’m smart?” He was looking down at her with annoyance.
“Not judging from the company you usually keep.”
“Worse than the Austin jail?” he pointed out, swaying on his feet.
“Don’t act so wounded and indignant; you’ve seen the inside of half the jails from here to Mexico City. Good-bye, Mr. Durango.” She pulled away from him and hurried off, leaving him standing there, still weaving slightly. She wasn’t about to end up as one of Ace Durango’s many conquests. When she finally married, she wanted a very civilized gentleman, the type who would quote Shakespeare and be a true believer in the cause. She sought out Penelope, and the two of them watched couples sashaying around the bubbling fountain.
Penelope sighed. “There’s going to be a Mexican band and dancing tonight. I hope Hank Dale shows up and asks me to dance. Who do you want to dance with?”
“With whom do I wish to dance?” Lynnie corrected automatically. “Nobody. Men will only distract us from working for women’s rights, Penny. They only want one thing from us, and it doesn’t have anything to do with voting.”
Penelope’s dark eyes blinked as she considered that one thing. “Miss McBride, you ever been kissed?”
“Call me Lynnie, since I’m no longer your teacher. I presume by ‘kiss’ you mean by someone other than uncles and little brothers? No, but I don’t think we’re missing anything,” Lynnie answered, and frowned as she watched Ace Durango laughing with a bunch of silly girls, who were twittering about him like a bunch of birds.
“Well, if you haven’t tried it, how would you know?” Penelope, too, watched the girls flocking about the big cowboy.
“I imagine it’s like being licked in the face by a hound dog,” Lynnie snapped.
“Emmalou Purdy looks like she can hardly wait to find out,” Penelope observed. “Look at how she’s leaning close to Ace and laughing at everything he says.”
“Emmalou Purdy is an idiot.” For some reason she didn’t understand, it annoyed Lynnie greatly that the girl was leaning so close to Ace, her big bosom almost brushing his arm. For a moment, she remembered the sensation of being in his embrace at the ball, the power and the size of the man. “And Ace Durango is a bigger idiot to fall for all her giggling. She doesn’t have a brain in her head.”
Penelope sighed. “I’m not sure brains are what a man’s looking for.”
“Which shows you just how smart the average man is,” Lynnie declared, and meant it. “While ninnies like Emmalou are getting kissed and flirting, we’ll be leading the charge for women’s right to vote.”
“I don’t know,” Penelope said wistfully. “Getting kissed seems awfully nice.”
“Penelope, you mustn’t desert the cause,” Lynnie admonished. “We’ve got to push for women’s rights in every way we can, and that means not succumbing to some brute’s wiles and ending up hanging over a hot stove, baking rhubarb pies by the dozen.”
“Rhubarb pies?”
“They’re his favorite,” Lynnie said without thinking. “Next thing you know, you’ve got a houseful of babies.”
“From baking rhubarb pies?” Penelope looked puzzled.
The girl was one sandwich short of a picnic, Lynnie decided, or incredibly naive. “Well, that’s what it leads to; kisses and babies.”
“Babies are nice; I’d like some, wouldn’t you?”
For a split second, Lynnie imagined a baby in her arms that had a cockeyed grin and very black hair. She must be losing her mind. “I can’t think of a man I’d want to do ... well, you know ... with to get one.”
“I don’t even know what it is you do to get a baby,” Penelope admitted.
Lynnie felt herself flush at the image that came to her mind of that big galoot and how he would look naked. In her mind, his lips brushed across her face and down her throat to her ...
“Miss Lynnie, are you getting sunburned? Your face is turning beet red.”
“No, Penelope.” She watched Emmalou Purdy take Ace’s arm, and the two of them laughed together like a pair of crazed hyenas. “He has to be stupid not to see through that.”
Penelope watched the two for a long moment. “He gets much closer to her, he’ll have to answer to her brother.”
“Nelbert Purdy?” Lynnie sniffed disdainfully. “Why, Ace Durango would wipe up the courtyard with him.”
“Just think how exciting it would be to have men fighting over your honor.” Her friend sighed.
“Oh, Penny, you’ll never be a modern woman if you keep thinking like that,” Lynnie said. Abruptly, she was sick of watching the handsome cowboy fawning all over the giggling simpleton. She used her hand to shield her eyes as she looked up toward the late-afternoon sun. “I wish they’d serve the food. It’s too boring to keep watching that pair make idiots of themselves.”
Penelope turned and gestured. “Well, there’s a croquet game going on the south lawn.”
“Croquet?” Lynnie shook her head. “A ladies’ game for prissy females. What are all the men doing?”
“What are they always doing? Most of them are over by the beer keg, a few are tossing horseshoes, and the rest are out back by the tables, waiting for the food to be served.”
As if on cue, a big gong clanged on the edge of the courtyard, and the grizzled old cook yelled, “Come and get it, folks; we got a beef and a pig roasting!”
“Come on, Penelope; we’ll be expected to help.”
Lynnie forgot about the annoying Ace Durango, women’s rights, and everything else for the next hour as she helped serve the food. A number of people looked at her with questions in their eyes, but Lynnie ignored them. So she’d caused a riot and ended up in jail. Certainly it was not something girls of good family did every day in Texas, but it was all for a good cause. Although she was attempting to put up a good front, it was difficult to be brave with people staring with such curiosity at her bloomers. Perhaps she had gone too far.
She served up barbecue and gallons of iced tea and lemonade. Ace Durango pointedly ignored her while a dozen pretty girls from neighboring ranches gathered around him, giggling at everything he said. They all seemed to be arguing over who was going to bring him a plate of food. Well, she’d never be a giggling slave like that.
Emmalou Purdy appeared to have won the argument and sashayed over to Lynnie, grinning like a possum. “Fill me a plate, Lynnie; Ace is waiting for it.”
Lynnie smiled. “Certainly.” When Emmalou turned to look back at the drunken cowboy, Lynnie poured chili pepper sauce over everything on the plate—especially the rhubarb pie.
Emmalou took the plate and returned to Ace, her hips swaying outrageously.
“It’s a wonder she doesn’t throw her back out,” Lynnie muttered.
Penelope watched the buxom beauty handing the plate to the grinning Ace. “I don’t think he’s interested in her back.”
“Oh, hush up, Penny, and get yourself a plate of food before these male pigs eat it all.”
Ace gobbled the food down without even tasting it, Lynnie thought. She hoped it gave him a bellyache.
As the sun sank toward the horizon, Lynnie watched him and h
is harem with a growing annoyance. Why couldn’t he be smart enough to see through those stupid girls’ antics?
When he ambled to the serving table to get another helping of her rhubarb pie, she told him so. “Those girls don’t really think you’re that clever.”
“They don’t?” He grinned at her and seemed to be having a difficult time focusing his eyes.
“Of course not, you big oaf; they’re just trying to charm you. All of them would like to be Mrs. Ace Durango, although, for the life of me, I can’t see why.” She cut a big hunk of pie and slapped it on his plate, but with him watching, she couldn’t put chili peppers on it.
“You know, Lynnie, you’re as annoyin’ as a burr under a saddle, but at least you’re always honest with me.” He grinned at her and took a bite. “Lordy, you can cook. But the piece I had while ago was a little better.”
She started to tell him about the chili peppers but decided she’d better not. “You’re so drunk, how would you know the difference?”
Ace cocked his head, pie smeared on his mouth. “Do you have to turn everything into a fight?”
“This isn’t a fight; it’s a discussion,” she countered loftily.
“Uh-huh.”
She didn’t mean to say it, but she couldn’t help herself. “I see Emmalou was almost crawling all over you out by the fountain.”
He grinned. “She was, wasn’t she? She can’t cook, but she’s got other things to interest a man.”
Lynnie felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. “Ace Durango, you are no gentleman.”
“I never claimed to be, Miss Priss. I’m a man, a hairy-chested, uncivilized man—the kind most women like.”
“A brute,” she snapped. “Helping to keep women downtrodden and powerless.”
“You, powerless and downtrodden?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Lady, you are the most stubborn, headstrong . . .”
“I beg your pardon! If your mother knew—”
“You gonna tell her and get me in trouble again?”
“You seem to be perfectly capable of getting in trouble all by yourself. Now, you’d better hurry; your harem is waiting.”
To Tame A Texan Page 9