To Tame A Texan

by Georgina Gentry

  “You—you played this game before?” His expression told her he refused to believe that he might be about to be taken by a woman.

  “A time or two with the boys in the bunkhouse.” She grinned at him, and around them the cowboys chuckled.

  It was easy to see that Ace was off his game, unable to concentrate. Lynnie kept her face grim. He must not guess how good her hand was. “What’s your bet?” she asked again.

  “My gold watch.” He took it out of his pocket and laid it on the rock.

  “All right, I’ll take that bet—your gold watch against my best cameo pin.” She reached up, unpinned it from the neck of her shirt, and laid it on the rock.

  Ace snorted. “Now what would I do with a lady’s jewelry?”

  “I don’t know—maybe give it to your favorite whore at Miss Fancy’s.”

  Ace choked audibly. “Ladies don’t know about things like that.”

  “Oh, don’t be so stiff-necked,” Lynnie scolded. “I’ve spent too much time around cowboys.”

  He snorted. “Obviously, the wrong cowboys if they taught a lady about poker and Miss Fancy’s. You know, with my bottom card, I might have a full house. A full house is—”

  “Don’t explain,” she said, “I know what a full house is. Are you calling me?” The cameo had held her shirt closed. Now she leaned so that he got a good look down the front of her shirt.

  It was evident he was so rattled, he couldn’t keep his mind on his cards. He looked at his hole card again and began to chew his lip. That told her he was bluffing; the bottom card was worthless. “Yes, I’m callin.’”

  She turned over her bottom card, and the cowboys took an audible breath. “Full house,” she said triumphantly, “Read ’em and weep. You got anything better?”

  Ace blinked, looking at his hand, and shook his head dumbly as he stared at her cards. “Two pair,” he admitted, and tossed in his hand.

  “Thought so.” She raked the watch and cameo to her and tossed her cards in. “Your deal, and let me caution you, I know about dealing from the bottom of the deck.”

  “You ain’t accusin’ me of cheatin’?”

  She looked at him in wide-eyed innocence. “Now, did I say that?”

  Ace shuffled the deck, but his hands were trembling uncertainly. It had to be evident to all concerned that he was off his game. “Cut it.”

  Lynnie cut the deck and handed it back to him. It was so quiet, she could hear the crackle of the fire, and some of the cowboys breathing.

  Ace dealt the hand. She had an ace, king, queen, and jack, all of the same suit: hearts. She sneaked a look at her hole card and frowned as if it were a bad card.

  Ace looked down at his face cards. He had three aces and one king showing, different suits. He turned up the corner of his hole card and began to chew his lip again.

  Lynnie picked up her cards and watched Ace. If he had a king as a hole card, he’d have a full house; but watching him, she knew he was bluffing, because he was so tense he was chewing his lip. “Let’s make this worth while and get this over with.” She looked into his eyes, taunting him by running her tongue over her lips.

  “Stop that,” he muttered, “you make it hard to keep my mind on the game.”

  “What?” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

  “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

  She ran her tongue over her lips again, this time even more tantalizingly. “I say let’s make the bet a big one. Let’s bet our bedrolls.”

  The cowboys set up a chorus of moans. “No, Miss Lynnie, he’s mean enough to take it and make you sleep on the ground.”

  “What about it, Ace?” she taunted him.

  “My bedroll?” He sounded a little desperate, and sweat broke out on his handsome face. She studied him, reading him like a book. He was bluffing, all right. He didn’t have that king he needed.

  “Maybe I’ll raise the stakes a bit,” Lynnie said, and leaned forward a little. Without the cameo holding it, the top of her shirt gaped open, and she knew it. “What about letting me come along on the trip, our bedrolls, and shutting up about how dumb women are?”

  He looked at his hand again and grinned. “And if I win, I get your bedroll and send you home?”

  She nodded.

  A murmur of dismay went up from the cowboys. “Oh, Miss Lynnie, watch out. Ace is the best poker player in the county.”

  “So he thinks,” she said, and didn’t smile.

  Ace leaned back against a rock. “I think you’re bluffin’, missy. I call you.”

  She smiled. “You gotta know when to hold them and know when to fold them.” There was a sharp intake of breath as Lynnie laid her cards slowly on the flat rock. “All I’ve got are this ace, this king, a lady, and what do you call this one?”

  Ace’s eyes were wide with shock. “A jack.”

  “Oh, and a number card.” She laid down the ten of hearts. “Is it important that they all are hearts?”

  “A royal flush,” Cookie whispered in disbelief.

  Ace began to curse under his breath, and the cowboys chuckled and nudged each other.

  Lynnie batted her eyes at Ace again. “Does that mean I win?”

  Ace tossed his cards down, swearing mightily. “Yes, damn it, you win. I can’t believe I’ve just been beaten by a girl. You must be the luckiest player in the world.”

  She smiled. “Or maybe one of the smartest, even though I’m just a woman?” She stood up, putting the gold watch in her pocket and pinning the cameo at the neck of her shirt to protect her modesty.

  She got no answer, because Ace got up, so obviously angry that he kicked their rock table and then hopped about on one foot, howling and swearing.

  “It just goes to show,” Lynnie said, brushing off her pants, “that a woman is equal to a man and ought to have equal rights, including the right to vote.”

  “You stacked that deck!” Ace snarled. “You cheated.”

  The cowboys’ mouths dropped open. “Ace, a true Texan would never accuse a lady—”

  “With you doing the dealing? No, you low-lifed varmint,” Lynnie said, “you tried to give me a deck of marked cards. Now admit it.” Lynnie, confronting Ace, looked up at him towering over her. “I was clever enough to beat you fair and square.”

  Ace closed his eyes and groaned aloud. “You hombres see what you’re lettin’ us in for? Forget the cards; I vote we send this sneaky little old maid home if we have to cancel the drive.”

  “Why, you cheat!” Lynnie snapped, angry at the injustice of it all. “You’re a rotten sport, Ace Durango, besides being a spoiled woman-chaser. I’m not only a better poker player, I’ve been doing my share of the work, and you just don’t want to admit that a woman might be your equal.”

  He towered over her. “Ain’t no bit of skirt my equal, and if we had to have a woman along on this drive, Lynnie, you wouldn’t be my choice.”

  “Ha, the kind of woman you’d chose never gets off her back!”

  The cowboys chortled with laughter at her spirit. “She’s a sassy piece, ain’t she?”

  “‘Isn’t she?’” Lynnie corrected primly. “What about it, Pedro?”

  The old Mexican sighed, then nodded. “She won fair and square, and Ace, you made the deal yourself. Besides, she’s been pullin’ her share of the load without complaint.”

  Ace howled in protest. “I say no; N-O. We ain’t turnin’ this cattle drive into a petticoat outfit. Why, the Forrester bunch will laugh themselves silly when we pull into Dodge with a girl along.”

  “Coward!” she shot back. “You afraid of being laughed at?”

  “Lady,” he said coldly, “in Texas, when you call a man a coward, you better be able to fight.”

  She doubled up her fists. “Oh, you’d hit a lady, would you? Very well, put up your dukes!”

  Ace looked around at the other men helplessly. “You see what we’re dealin’ with?” Then to her, “Lynnie, you know I can’t fight no girl; I’d be the laughingstock of the Lone St
ar State.”

  “Put up or shut up,” Lynnie commanded. “You’re the one who made the bet when you thought I didn’t know the game. By the way, when you’ve got a bad hand, you chew your lip, even though you’re smiling. Any good poker player should spot that. You’ve been outplayed and, better yet, outsmarted.”

  “Of all the sassy women in the world, how was I unlucky enough to end up with you on this drive? I ought to whip your butt and teach you proper respect,” Ace growled.

  “Just try it, mister.”

  The other cowboys looked at each other.

  Hank said, “The little lady’s got spunk. You know, Texans like that in their women. She beat Ace; we all saw that. Pedro, I think we should let her finish the drive.”

  Ace slapped his forehead in frustration. “No!” he protested. “This woman has been the bane of my life ever since my folks made me take her to that dance. She’ll make my life a livin’ hell all the way to Dodge City.”

  Lynnie grinned at the thought. She’d be delighted to fulfill that dire prediction.

  The other cowboys mumbled among themselves and began to nod. Cookie said, “She won fair and square.”

  “Sí,” Pedro said, “and Ace made the bet.”

  “Can’t you see what she’s doin’?” Ace looked around the circle in frustration. “Lordy, are you hombres loco? We can’t treat her like an equal; she’s a petticoat.”

  Lynnie let her eyes fill with tears that ran down her cheeks. “You’re just plain mean, and me a defenseless woman. Worse than that, you welsh on a bet.”

  He was speechless on that one. “Well,” he stammered, “the bet didn’t count, ’cause you’re a girl.”

  “I’m a Texas girl.” She turned in mute appeal to the men. Texans believed in fair play.

  Now all the men turned and glared at Ace—even Pedro. “Hombre, stop picking on the poor little señorita.”

  “She started it,” Ace said. “How come she keeps gettin’ me in trouble but I get the blame?”

  Lynnie cried some more.

  “Enough!” Pedro thundered. “Hombres, we let the señorita go along to Dodge City.”

  The boys cheered, but Ace groaned aloud. “We’ll regret it. You fellas just don’t know Lynnie McBride like I do.”

  Cookie yawned. “I think it’s time we all get some shut-eye. Mornin’s comin’ purty soon.”

  The others got up and started for their bedrolls.

  Lynnie wiped her eyes and grinned at Ace.

  “I knew it,” he growled. “Like any woman, you’ll use tears to get what you want while whinin’ about equal rights.”

  She sniffed primly and turned to go.

  “You are sneaky.” He walked along behind her.

  “And smart?”

  “Well, I reckon you’re that, too,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Hah! I never thought I’d hear you say that. You yelling ‘calf-roped’?”

  In Texas, “calf-roped” was admitting defeat.

  “Not on your tintype, Lynnie.” He grabbed her arm and whirled her around. “I want to be there to say, ‘I told you so’ to this crew when they get sick of havin’ a girl along.”

  She tried to pull out of his grasp, but his big hand was too strong. They were standing close together—too close. She could smell the hot male scent of him and see the full, sensual lips. It stirred something inside her that startled her. “Oh, by the way, you bet your bedroll, remember?”

  He gasped and let go of her, his eyes full of horrified disbelief. “You’d take a man’s bedroll and make him sleep on the hard ground?”

  “You were planning to do it to me. You welshing on this bet?”

  “It’s not that; it’s just the ground’s pretty hard—”

  “You welshing on the bet?” She was standing too close to him, but to step backward would be to admit defeat. She kept looking into his eyes, knowing that if a man had said that, Ace probably would have killed him. There were some advantages to being a girl.

  “Don’t push me too hard, Lynnie. I’ve had about as much as I can take of you.”

  He was towering over her, standing so close, his muscular chest was almost brushing against her breasts. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Admit I’m smart.”

  “Okay,” he conceded, “for a woman, you’re smart.”

  “No qualifiers,” she insisted.

  “What?”

  “That means”—she said it slowly and patiently as if talking to an small child—“admit I’m smart as you are.”

  He shook his head.

  “Then give me your bedroll.” She held out her hand.

  “All right; you’re almost as smart as a man.”

  She raised one eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe you’re as smart as some men.”

  “Maybe? ” she laughed. “All right. I’ll consider you’ve yelled ‘calf-roped’ and let you keep your blankets.”

  “I didn’t yell calf-roped.”

  “Yes, you did, in so many words. Oh, by the way, I don’t have any use for a gold watch, so I’m generous enough to return it.” She tossed it to him and started walking back to the fire, humming in satisfaction.

  “I did not yell ‘calf-roped’!” he yelled after her.

  Lynnie grinned to herself and kept walking. She knew she could only push him so far, but this evening had been a triumph for all women against all arrogant male brutes. She’d hold up her end of the work, all right, but if she could make Ace Durango’s life miserable the next few weeks, she vowed she would surely do it.

  Twelve

  The next morning, Lynnie felt a decided difference in the air. Although she was still dressed in boy’s pants and denim shirt, the rough, uncivilized cowboys now seemed self-conscious around her. Why, they were acting halfway civilized, Lynnie thought with surprise as she rolled up her bedroll. As she struggled to lift her heavy stock saddle and carry it over to her horse, half a dozen cowhands rushed up.

  “Here, ma’am, let me get that for you.”

  “Miss McBride, I’d be glad to saddle your horse.”

  “Miss Lynnie, a little thing like you oughtn’t to be carryin’ that heavy saddle.”

  “Let her carry it,” Ace ordered, his voice as grim as his face. “She wants to be a man’s equal; let her prove it.”

  “I can and I will,” Lynnie snapped, and lugged her own saddle across the circle.

  Behind her, she heard grumbling among the men. “What’s eatin’ Ace? It ain’t right to let a little lady carry a big saddle while a bunch of men watch her.”

  She glanced back over her shoulder at Ace. She could see the disgusted looks among the cowboys. Even old Cookie was giving her a look of sympathy Oh, she was going to make that big brute of a Texan pay for his stubborn superiority.

  They saddled up and got the herd moving. The May weather was hot and dusty, and water scarce as they trailed a day or so behind the Forrester herd. She made sure she did more than her share of the work, and she caught the cowboys giving her admiring looks. That is, all except Ace. If looks could kill, she’d surely be dead by now.

  That night when they camped, the cowboys were all on their best behavior: no belching or breaking wind in her presence, and there were no ribald jokes. In fact, they all seemed to be watching her with embarrassment, as if remembering some of the ungentlemanly behavior the past several weeks before they had realized there was a girl among them. That is, all but Ace. If anything, he was even more rude and uncivilized to her. She’d heard how charming he could be to women, but danged if she saw any of it. He seemed determined to make her life as miserable as possible. Well, she could give him tit for tat, she promised herself.

  Cookie even seemed to have sobered up some, although old Twister was as drunk as ever on vanilla-soaked biscuits. “I suppose you think you’d like to take over my chuck wagon?”

  She gave him her most charming smile. “Why, me? No, Cookie, I could never cook the way you do.”

  That was the god-awful truth, she t
hought, remembering last night’s meal. “Of course, if you’d want me to do the lowly stuff like slice bacon and clean pans—”

  “Couldn’t ask a lady to do that.” The old man ducked his head, smiling shyly. “Now that I think of it, Miss Lynnie, I’d admire to have you give me a hand. I hear as how you’re the best pie baker in south Texas.”

  Ace glowered at her. “I’ll admit she’s that. In fact, that’s where she belongs—in a kitchen, rustlin’ up grub for the unlucky man who’d get hitched to her.”

  Comanch sighed wistfully. “Miss Lynnie, any man who got you would be lucky.”

  “Comanch,” said Ace sternly, “you been on the trail too long.”

  Lynnie smiled sweetly around the circle at the cowboys, and in turn, they all glared at Ace. He retreated to a rock, sat down and began to roll himself a smoke.

  “Now,” Lynnie said, rolling up her sleeves, “I believe we passed some sand plum bushes about a half mile back. I might ride there and get enough for a pie.”

  Most of the boys jumped to their feet, taking off their Stetsons with a sweeping gesture. “Miss Lynnie, I’d be proud to accompany you.”

  “No, I’ll ride back with her—”

  “Dagnab it, I spoke first—”

  “Hey, I’m the best plum picker there is,” another protested.

  “You can all go with me,” Lynnie said grandly.

  Ace didn’t smile. “Don’t look at me to help. It appears to me ten or twelve skirt-addled hombres is plenty to pick a few sand plums.”

  She gave him her coldest, haughtiest stare. “We can do this without you, thank you.”

  Immediately, all the cowboys pushed and shoved to see who would be the fortunate one to help her up on her horse. Then they all mounted up and rode out.

  Behind her, she heard Ace griping to Pedro. “Damn it, she’s disruptin’ everything, that gol-darned female.”

  She turned in her saddle and yelled back, “I heered that!”

  The cowboys guffawed, and she knew she had won another round. Of course, she really shouldn’t rile Ace Durango. He’d already lost the first round, and she shouldn’t be rubbing all this in—he was already almost impossible to deal with. One thing was certain: he’d never follow her around like a puppy dog like these other cowboys were doing. Maybe this was one Texan who couldn’t be tamed, nor did she want to try. He wasn’t at all like the genteel gentleman spouting poetry and playing croquet that she read about in romantic novels. The kind of man she dreamed of would be named Percival or Felix, would accompany her to violin concerts and encourage her in her women’s rights work.