She staggered over to saddle Boneyard. The gray’s mournful expression told her she didn’t think much of today’s ten-mile ride, either.
Lynnie’s locks felt tangled and dirty, but she dared not take down her hair and attempt to comb it. Pulling her Stetson low, she saddled her horse and mounted up. The chuck wagon was already on the trail, and the cowboys were putting the herd on the move. Lynnie looked up at the sun. It was going to be a long day, and it was just getting started. Ace galloped back toward her.
“Hey, kid, pick up the pace; we ain’t out on a picnic here.”
She managed to bite her lip and not give out with a smart retort. Oh, how she hated him as she glared after his broad back, disappearing toward the front of the herd. Maybe that big black stallion would step in a hole and throw him and break his thick neck, or better yet, toss him into a fresh cow pie or some scorpions. Lynnie urged her horse out onto the trail and gritted her teeth. Only the thought of her noble cause kept her headed north. She watched Ace’s arrogant back as she rode and amused herself by imagining his horse throwing him in the dirt. If that happened, it would be her pleasure to ride right across the uncouth brute’s big body.
Ten
One miserable day blended into the next for Lynnie, driving the slow-moving herd north. So far, no cowboy seemed to realize she was a girl, although every once in a while, she saw Ace look at her and scratch his head in puzzlement. Sooner or later, he might just figure out where he had seen her before, but maybe by then, they’d be too far up the trail to send her back.
As May approached and the days grew warmer, she thought all the unwashed bodies seemed to get smellier. Lynnie felt so filthy she could hardly stand it, but there was really no place to wash much, and even if there were, she wouldn’t dare risk taking off her clothes. She never took off her hat, either, and she could only imagine what a rat’s nest her hair must be.
The cowboys were not only unwashed, they were all growing straggly beards, although most of them didn’t seem old enough to be growing whiskers at all. Ace and Comanch, because of their Indian blood, seemed to have few whiskers at all. Oh, the romantic cowboys of song, Lynnie thought with a snort of disgust, and tried to stay upwind of the sweaty bodies. Parfum de dirty cowboy now blended with parfum de cow.
One dull, dusty day seemed to fade into the next, and sometimes Lynnie almost wished her masquerade would be discovered so she could go back to a clean bed and plenty of water. The fact that they were a day or so behind the Forrester herd did not help. The other herd left grass destroyed, cow manure everywhere, and water either used up or so filthy it couldn’t be used. Her cold had cleared, but she kept her head low and spoke as little as possible so she could fit in with the others. Whoever said cowboys were men of few words knew what they were talking about.
One afternoon, Hank galloped back along the line, shouting and waving his hat. “There’s a pretty good-size pond ahead! I could see it from a distance!”
All the cowboys set up a yell. “Skinny-dippin’ tonight! Boy howdy, that sure sounds good!”
Oh, hell and thunderation, now what would she do? Lynnie let out a yell of excitement just like the others, but she was already worrying about how she would handle dealing with a bunch of buck-naked men. Worse than that, how would she explain when she didn’t go in the water herself?
However, to her relief, when they finally pulled up to the shallow lake and watched the thirsty cattle wade in to drink, a disappointed moan went up from the crew.
Ace cursed under his breath as he looked at the muddy, fouled water. “Looks like Forresters’ bunch deliberately drove their herd through it several times to mess it up so we couldn’t use it. It’d be like swimmin’ in a cow outhouse.”
Lynnie breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t raise her head.
Comanche said, “That means no bath?”
Ace shrugged. “Look at that water. It’s so thick, you’ll be dirtier comin’ out than when you went in.”
Cookie took a swig off his bottle of vanilla. “We better find a good stream some time soon, or my water barrel will be empty and I’ll have to make coffee out of ponds like that.”
“Wouldn’t taste no worse,” a cowhand muttered.
“I heered that! Just for that, young man, no food for you tonight.”
The young man grinned and started to say something else, but seemed to think better of it.
“I heerd that!”
“But I didn’t say nothin’,” the cowboy protested.
“No,” Cookie said, “but you was thinkin’ it.”
Ace looked toward Pedro. “So now what do we do?”
Pedro scratched his mustache. “We camp and move on tomorrow ... sí.”
“We ought to try to pass that Forrester herd.” Ace leaned on his saddle horn.
Pedro shook his head. “No, hombre, we’d end up in a stampede. We can only pass if they agree to hold their herd and let us.”
“Not likely!” Ace said, and let loose a string of oaths questioning Willis Forrester’s parentage.
Lynnie winced, not used to hearing men curse in front of her, and tried to keep her face expressionless.
Ace seemed to be in a foul temper as he dismounted. “Hey, you, kid, help Cookie gather up fuel and get the camp goin’.”
“That ain’t really fair, Ace,” one of the cowboys protested. “Lee’s been doin’ more than his share of the work.”
“Then let him do some more,” Ace snapped, and while some of the young cowboys exchanged glances, no one argued with him.
It wasn’t fair, Lynnie fumed as she dismounted and allowed her horse to drink. It wasn’t fair at all that she was the one Ace seemed to be taking all his spite out on. Of course, if she argued or did anything to draw attention to herself, she was apt to be discovered, so she unsaddled and hobbled Boneyard. As the mare began to graze, Lynnie walked out across the prairie, picking up dried cow chips. She carried a stack over to where the old man was laying out his fire.
“Thanks, boy, you’ll get extra helpin’s tonight.”
Yum, yum. “Thanks, Cookie,” she muttered. He reeked of vanilla, and she realized that the flavoring was full of alcohol. She hoped he didn’t get too close to that fire; his breath might catch fire. As she worked, the other cowboys were settling down the herd for the night, and Pedro was explaining tomorrow’s tasks to Ace. As green as everyone in this drive was, if anything happened to Pedro, they’d be in serious trouble, Lynnie thought. Old Cookie stayed half-drunk on vanilla, and Ace Durango was too spoiled and inexperienced to take charge of a cattle drive. The other cowboys were younger and less experienced than he was, so they wouldn’t be much help.
It was dusk, one cowboy playing a guitar as they choked down old Cookie’s food. Only old Twister, the lead steer, seemed to have any taste for the heavy biscuits—with the exception of Boneyard. Boneyard shouldered the steer out of the way for the delicacies. The cowboys laughed about it. Lynnie was a pretty good cook, and she itched to take over the chuck wagon, but she knew she couldn’t do that without raising the cook’s ire and everyone else’s suspicions.
Pedro had gone off to check on a lame horse when Ace said, “It’s time to set the first watch. Joe, you and Lee do it.”
Lynnie sighed. She was dog tired.
“Ace,” said one of the other boys, “you’re picking’ on the kid and he ain’t done nothin’ to deserve it.”
“Hell, I’m not, either!” Ace seemed to be in a particularly foul mood. “He knew it would be rough when he signed on.”
Comanch said, “But he’s doin’ more than his share.”
Ace glared in her direction. “You hear him complainin’?”
“I’ll do it,” Lynnie muttered, and picked out a fresh horse and saddled it up. How she wished for just an hour’s worth of sleep, but she wasn’t about to protest Ace’s bullying. She surely didn’t want to give him any excuse to fire her. When she mounted up and glanced back, Ace was glaring at her as if she’d done something wrong.<
br />
She hadn’t gone more than a few hundred yards when her horse stumbled, and half-asleep as she was, she fell from the saddle and lay there, the wind knocked out of her. She wasn’t sure whether to get up or not; maybe there was something broken.
Even as she tried to decide, Ace ran over. “Kid, are you hurt?”
“Maybe my ankle,” she muttered. “Not sure.”
“Oh, hell, you’re determined to make me look bad in front of the crew, aren’t you?” Ace snapped as he swung her up in his arms and headed back to camp. “Okay, I’ll ride your shift for you.”
“You’re wonderful!” Lynnie said, and without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
He froze in midstride, his eyes wide and full of horror. “I ain’t one of them nancy-boys, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” And with that, he dropped her in the dirt and strode away to catch her horse.
Damn him, anyway; what was the matter with Ace? Lynnie stared after him, her bottom aching from being dropped so unceremoniously. Thank God they were just over a little rise, and the others hadn’t seen what had happened. Had he figured out who she was because of her stupid, spontaneous kiss? No, she shook her head in puzzlement as she stumbled to her feet and walked back to camp. If he had, he surely would have let the whole world know immediately. As it was, he caught up her horse and mounted and rode away toward the herd, seeming to avoid her curious stare.
Lynnie limped back into camp, got her bedroll, and spread it near Ace’s by the fire. Rocks under her blanket or no, she was too tired to care. The camp settled down fast on the warm spring night; only the nighthawks’ singing to the cattle drifted on the wind. Lynnie kept her hat on, laid her head on her saddle, and drifted off to sleep.
Ace rode his circuit, singing softly to the cattle: “As I walked out in the streets of Laredo; as I walked out in Laredo one day; I spied a young cowboy . . .”
His mind was in turmoil over that Lee Smith. He’d never admit it to a living soul, but the young cowboy was beginning to stir Ace’s blood, and it horrified him. When the kid had kissed him, he’d liked it. The boy must be one of those nancy-boys who liked men. Well, Ace Durango sure wasn’t. Ever since he’d been attracted to the kid, Ace had been punishing him, loading him down with extra work, hoping to make him quit and drop out. Ace didn’t like the thoughts he was beginning to have about the boy.
When his shift was up, he rode back to camp, unsaddled his black, and awakened Comanch to take his place. Then he noted with horror that Lee had spread his blankets next to Ace’s. Did the kid realize Ace was attracted to him? He must or he wouldn’t want to lie next to him. No telling what might happen. Ace had been without a woman for several weeks now—longer than he’d ever been in all these years. He looked at the kid’s small form under the blankets and stifled an urge to snuggle down next to him.
Damn, what was happening to him? Ace grabbed up his bedroll and moved as far away from Lee Smith as he could get. As he drifted off to sleep, he imagined the eager saloon girls who would be waiting to pleasure him in Dodge City with their lusty bodies and full breasts. In his dreams, he kissed one, and as he kissed her, she suddenly became the boy called Lee. Ace bolted upright, breathing hard and wiping sweat from his face. No one must ever know about his secret attraction to the boy. Ace just needed a woman; that was all. Once he got an eager whore under him, he’d be all right. However, he hardly slept that night, and when they put the herd on the move next morning, his mood was black. He made sure he kept as much distance as possible between him and young Lee Smith. Lordy, it was going to be a long, frustrating, confusing day.
That evening just before sundown, they finally came to a creek, deep and clean with newly fallen rain. The excited cowboys rode their dusty horses into the water among the cattle. “Oh, boy! After grub tonight, we all get a swim!”
Thunderation, how would she deal with this?
“I—I’ll take first watch tonight,” she said. Pedro was busy gathering in stragglers from the herd, so Ace and a few cowboys were the only ones to hear her. The young hands looked at Ace accusingly, but he only snapped, “Fine! You can take my shift.”
What was ailing the man? Ace Durango had been avoiding her like she’d been bitten by a mad dog, and when he did speak to her, he was surly and ill-tempered. Ever since she had kissed his cheek so impulsively when he’d picked her up off the ground, Lynnie had been holding her breath and waiting for him to expose her disguise. Instead, he had held his tongue and treated her as if she were a Yankee carpetbagger, snarled at her at every opportunity, and never passed up a chance to load her down with extra work. Why he hadn’t exposed her masquerade to the rest of the crew mystified her, but she could only breathe a sigh of relief that, so far, he hadn’t.
That running stream looked awfully good to her, but of course, she couldn’t skinny-dip with the men. Instead, she went to help Cookie get the camp organized. Many of the cowboys, including Ace, were now stripping off their dusty clothes and diving into the water.
Cookie paused to watch the swimmers. “Looks good, don’t it?”
“Sure does.” She turned and looked. Ace Durango stood on the bank, wearing nothing but a smile as he dove in. She got a quick look at wide shoulders, narrow waist, and—oh, my, what a big . . . She felt the blood rush to her face as she turned and began to help stir up the biscuits.
“Hey, young fella,” Cookie said, grinning, “you go ahead and take a dip with the others. I can manage here.”
“Thanks, Cookie,” she muttered, “but I don’t feel like it right now.”
“You sure? They seem to be having more fun than pigs in a mud pit.”
She turned and looked again. She had never seen so many bare bottoms before. The young cowboys were having a great time splashing and popping each other with wet clothes. She rolled her eyes, thinking men were just overgrown boys after all. Lynnie tried not to stare at Ace, that magnificent brute. Once he glanced up and caught her looking. Immediately, his face grew dark as a thunder cloud, and he turned his back to her. That gave her a great view of his lean hips and the rippling muscles of his back.
“Hey, Lee,” Cookie asked, “you gonna help me or not?”
“Sure.” She avoided his gaze as she began to peel potatoes.
The old man was mixing biscuits and sipping vanilla.
“You know,” Lynnie ventured, “that idea you had about adding a little baking powder sounded good.”
He paused and scratched his head. “I say that?”
“Didn’t you?”
He thought a minute, nodded, and added a pinch to his mix. While he was putting his bread in the Dutch oven, Lynnie took the big butcher knife and began to cut thick slices of bacon. As she worked, Ace, halfway up to his waist in water, turned and yelled at her, “Stop watchin’ me like a buzzard watchin’ a dead calf!”
“I’m not.” She looked at the big knife in her hand and smiled at the tempting thought that crossed her mind of the cowboys turning young bulls into steers. She’d like to take this big knife to Ace’s . . .
“Liar! I saw you watchin’ me swim.” He was glaring at her, and she wasn’t sure why.
She couldn’t deny it, and she had a feeling she looked very guilty. “I was watchin’ everyone.”
“Humph.” He returned to his splashing, and she helped Cookie get the food cooking. By the time Cookie banged a pan, they had crisp slices of bacon, fried potatoes, biscuits and gravy, and strong coffee ready.
Half the cowboys headed for the fire without putting any clothes on, but Ace looked at her, turned his back, and put on his pants and boots. Water still dripped from his rugged body as he came to the fire.
Lynnie blinked and took a deep breath. She just couldn’t sit down by a fire with a bunch of naked cowboys and keep her mind on her food. Ace must have seen her expression, because he snapped at the wranglers, “You hombres at least put your pants on.”
A cry of protest went up from the boys.
Ace was stil
l glaring at her, which puzzled her greatly. “Put ’em on, I tell you. How would you like to spill hot grease on your best parts and disappoint all those gals in Dodge City?”
That was enough to get the boys laughing and hurrahing each other as they went for their clothes.
Lynnie hurriedly gobbled her food, keeping her gaze on her plate.
“Hey,” one of the cowhands said, “these biscuits ain’t half bad—light and tasty.”
Cookie beamed. “My new recipe.”
Lynnie kept silent and ate.
As the evening shadows lengthened, the boys were all setting their tin plates aside, leaning back against their saddles and belching. There seemed to be a contest between them about who could belch the loudest. Well, at least they weren’t doing the other thing. Men were such rude, barbaric creatures when women weren’t around to civilize and tame them.
Now the boys had a card game going, with Ace winning most of the chips. It was evident he was a better than average poker player, and Lynnie knew more than a little about poker, having been taught by her own ranch’s bunkhouse crew over the years.
Ace glared at her. “Ain’t you got the first watch, Lee?”
It took all her control not to correct his grammar. She nodded and left the fire. She gave Boneyard a biscuit, and as she saddled up, she noted Cookie was soaking leftover biscuits in vanilla and feeding them to old Twister. A drunken steer—just what they needed. No wonder the old bovine hung around the chuck wagon—he had a taste for alcohol.
As she mounted up in the darkness, she heard Ace’s triumphant yell as he won yet another hand. Arrogant, cocky bastard. She’d like to take him down a notch by beating his socks off at poker, but that would only make him more difficult to deal with. Ace Durango was a true Texan; he couldn’t stand to be bested by a mere girl. As she rode her lonely post and watched the steers chew their cuds, she looked with longing toward the distant creek.
To Tame A Texan Page 14