No Place for a Lady

by Vivian Vaughan

  By the time she reached the dugout, Tyler was busy filling flour sacks with foodstuffs. Without meeting his gaze, she ventured inside.

  He closed the door, then handed her the britches and a clean, ironed blue shirt. She turned it over examining it from all sides, lost for a moment in thought.

  “Annie’s never touched that shirt, if that’s what’s botherin’ you,” he observed dryly.

  Madolyn glanced up, chagrined that he could read her thoughts with such ease. “If you’re in such a hurry to be on our way, kindly leave me alone to dress.”

  His eyes narrowed. Dropping the flour sack, he advanced toward her, grasped her by the shoulders, drew her to his chest, and lowered his lips. He kissed her hard on the mouth. Hard and fierce. A kiss that not only spoke to her of passion but screamed it, demanding the same in return.

  Then as quickly as he had taken her, he turned her loose. “There, feelin’ better?”

  “What?”

  “That’s what you were hankerin’ for wasn’t it?”

  “Certainly not.”

  He reached for her again. This time his kiss was softer, gentler, but every bit as passionate. When he released her again, it was with his lips, only. His thumbs drew spirals on her upper arms. “Send that high horse of yours back to town, Maddie. We don’t need it on this trip.”

  With that, he began to undress her. She tried to step away, but he pulled her back. “Shh. Quiet down. Let’s get this over with.”

  She knew he could feel her arms quiver. “I can dress myself.”

  “Sure you can.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “But I like to do it.” When her fitted basque was unbuttoned, he shoved it off her shoulders and tossed it to the bed. Then he unbuttoned her skirt.

  “Step out,” he ordered. She complied, wary, berating herself for not summoning the will to oppose him. Next, he untied her petticoats. The bustle confounded him, to her delight. He flipped it back and forth a few times. “Hell, the damn thing folds up like an accordion.”

  “It’s collapsible.”

  He grinned, springing it to and fro a couple more times. “Wonder why I didn’t notice that before—” His eyes found and held hers in a moment of intense mutual desire.

  He winked. “Reckon I was too het up for what lay ahead.” He tossed the bustle to the bed and turned to her, his eyes smoldering.

  She stood before him now in only corset and pantaloons, but when he reached for her corset laces, she stopped him.

  “I’ll finish, while you get our food together.”

  Dipping his face, he kissed her chest, just where her breasts started to mound. “I’d much rather do this.”

  In spite of herself, she laughed. Lightly, to be sure. But she laughed. His eyes held hers. His lips brushed hers. Then, of a sudden, he swatted her on her bloomer-clad bottom.

  “Save that laugh, Maddie. It sounds so good, I’m goin’ to have to hear it again.”

  Not likely, she thought. But she kept her silence, and while he finished filling several flour sacks with canned foods and jerked meat, she slipped the britches and shirt over her pantaloons and corset.

  “Oh, no,” she sighed. “These will never do.” She held the sides of the pants wide to either side.

  Laughing, he unsheathed his Bowie knife, sliced a length of hemp rope from a coil that hung on a peg hammered into the rock wall, and threaded it through the belt loops. But when he attempted to tie it, his hands stopped on her waist.

  He eyed her with that exasperated expression he often got when she pushed his patience to the limit. “Take off that damned corset.”

  “Not on your life!”

  “I don’t mean for the reason you’re thinkin’. Not that I’m not thinkin’ it,” he drawled, “but you wouldn’t last one day ridin’ a horse through the rugged country we’ll be travelin’ trussed up like a turkey gobbler at Thanksgivin’ dinner.”

  “I’ve worn a corset all my grown life.”

  His tone softened. “In all your life, grown or otherwise, Maddie, you’ve not experienced the hardship you’re about to face. Don’t make things harder on yourself. Take it off.”

  Even as he spoke, he began to unbutton the blue shirt. He stripped it off and she let him, as though she had good sense. But when he started on her corset, she moved his hands aside.

  “You’ve already done that once today, and you know where that got us. If you’re in such a hurry, go see to the horses. I can finish.”

  He kissed her quickly. Before leaving the dugout, he tossed an old brown Stetson to the bed. “Take it off. And that city-bonnet of yours, too.”

  “I will.” And she did, but she stuffed the corset into a sack she hastily made from one of her petticoats, tying the corners to conceal the contents.

  The straw bonnet she could do without, but she couldn’t go off to a foreign country without her corset. Why, Miss Abigail would be mortified!

  Day became night and night became day, as for three days and nights they traveled by the light of the moon and slept beneath the sweltering sun. Sánchez had gone on ahead to Las Colinas, “to check on things,” was all Tyler would say. Madolyn had so little knowledge of their situation she couldn’t even fill in the blanks.

  The terrain was rocky, not a kilometer of it level, she would wager. By the time they reached the Rio Grande the first day out, the sun was setting and she was ready for relief, even if that meant sleeping on the hard ground.

  Although they had spent no more than four hours in the saddle up to now, she had never imagined one’s backside could hurt the way hers did; she was certain it must be black and blue with bruises. And, if that weren’t enough, the skin between her legs had been rubbed raw from sitting astride the saddle.

  But Tyler seemed to follow Miss Abigail’s dictum, that there should be no rest for the weary. “Night’s the only time we can travel once we cross the river,” he explained, “so we’ll have to keep goin’. You up to it?”

  “Yes. Of course.” She sat her saddle, hoping she was up to it, whatever “it” turned out to be. He instructed her to remove her shoes.

  “Tie the laces together and drape ’em around your neck.”

  Skeptical, she watched him tug off his boots, then stretch a length of rope through the dog-eared tops and hang them around his neck like a stole.

  “Leather dries stiffer’n your spine, madam secretary. Only way to save a wet pair of boots is to wear ’em till they dry. And let me tell you somethin’, honey, that ain’t no fun.”

  She followed his instructions, allowing his teasing voice to dispel some of the jitters that fluttered like a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.

  Raúl led off, followed by Tyler, with Madolyn close behind. Tyler continued to instruct her until the moment her horse entered the black waters.

  “Hold the reins loosely in both hands, grip the saddle with your knees, and stay close to me. If you get in trouble, holler, I’ll save you. Don’t be scared.”

  “All right.” Which was easy enough to say, but when she nudged her horse in behind Tyler’s, she began to quake from the inside out.

  Water sprayed from the hooves of Raúl’s mount; it glistened like rubies in the last rays of the setting sun. A stunning, glorious sight. Then her horse plunged in behind Tyler’s. The water rose quickly and was icy cold as it climbed up her legs. Her mount lost its footing and swam into the current. By the time they climbed the opposite bank, she was wet to the chin from the skin out. Her teeth chattered.

  Tyler turned at the sound. “Cold?”

  “It feels good,” she managed between chatters. “The weather’s been hot for so long I’d forgotten how it feels to be cold.” They didn’t stop or even slow down, but rode off into the gathering darkness.

  “Where we’re headed, you may see snow,” he told her once.

  “Snow? In June?”

  “From a distance. The mountains that ring Las Colinas are topped with snow year round.”

  Raúl set a rapid pace and held it until almos
t sunup. From time to time Tyler handed her food.

  “Jerky,” he explained what the dried slivers of meat were. “Made from mule deer.”

  “Mule? Or deer?”

  He laughed. “Mule deer. They’re deer with long, floppy ears.”

  They each carried a canteen, and Tyler reminded her to drink. “Take little sips along; that’ll keep you from gettin’ really thirsty.”

  “What about Raúl?” she asked once when he handed her another piece of jerky.

  “He carries his own food. Don’t worry about him. Just watch where you’re goin’.”

  Several times during the long night, Tyler left her with Raúl and rode into the rocky, cactus-clad foothills, sometimes ahead, other times to the north or south. Once when he returned, it was to direct them to a camping place back in the hills.

  “There’s a stream and shade and some caves where we can stake the horses out of sight. We’ll rest there until nightfall.”

  The sun was well up by now, and the terrain was a surprise. It looked exactly the same as the land around Buckhorn. The campsite Tyler had chosen was on a rocky hillside with no more trees than in Texas. She found it strange that they had crossed a river, entered a foreign land, ridden throughout the long night, and still remained in a desolate, almost barren desert.

  No sooner had they dismounted at the campsite, than Raúl stripped the horses of their saddles and led them to water, after which he took them up the hill to the cave Tyler indicated. Madolyn didn’t see him again.

  “You can fill our canteens in that stream, if you want,” Tyler suggested. When she returned, he had taken a sack of food from his saddlebags and spread their repast on top of a tarp. “What’re you hungry for?”

  She came forward, laughing. At the sound, he glanced up, capturing her gaze with a heated look that caused the sound to catch in her throat.

  He took the canteens and set them aside. “You didn’t forget.”

  “You told me not to.”

  His brows shot up. “When’d you start doin’ what I tell you to?”

  She laughed again. Dropping to the ground on a nearby log, she decided she must be giddy with weariness. “I don’t, unless it suits my fancy.”

  “Suits your fancy, huh?” He handed her a tin plate. “Hope cold biscuits and jerky suits your fancy. We can’t risk a fire.”

  Reminder of the Rurales sobered her. “What would they do if they caught us?”

  Tyler settled down on the log beside her. “Shoot us, I reckon.”

  “Shoot us?”

  “Don’t get excited. I won’t let ’em shoot you. That’s a promise.”

  “One that might be difficult to keep, since they would probably shoot you first.”

  He glanced up from his plate with a grimace. “I’m sorry. Bad joke.” He grinned. “Try not to worry. I wouldn’t have brought you if I didn’t think I could protect you.”

  She listened to the creek lap against the bank and felt the strange sensation of sitting here, who knew where, beside this man who had become such an integral part of her life that she truly didn’t worry too much about her own safety. Here they were, in a foreign country, faced with the possibility of being set upon by foreign soldiers, yet none of it seemed real—except the man beside her, except her feelings for him.

  “I’m mighty proud of the way you made it through all that rough country,” he told her.

  She smiled, inordinately pleased that he had noticed. “Thanks. I’m proud of myself, wrong as that is.”

  “Wrong? You’re entitled to be proud. Anyone who saw you would say the same.”

  “Not Miss Abigail. She says pride—”

  “To hell with Miss Abigail.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “We’ll lay our blankets back in that thicket.”

  She tensed before his words were out. Hadn’t she dreaded this moment all day? “No.”

  Tyler studied her, serious. “When we get back to Texas, we’ll divvy up the authority in this relationship, Maddie. In the meantime, you have to do exactly what I say.”

  “But…? Where’s Raúl?”

  “Keepin’ watch. In a few hours, I’ll join him. Until then…”

  Panic-stricken, she scrambled to her feet. “Until then, nothing, Tyler Grant. We don’t have a relationship. And nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to happen between us.”

  “Maddie, Maddie, calm down.” Rising, he caught her by the shoulders. “Nothin’ll happen, I promise.” In spite of that promise, however, he kissed her, a long, wet, passionate kiss that left her heart palpitating and her body wanting more. But to her surprise, she didn’t get it.

  “There, that’ll have to do for today, love. I’m near as tuckered out as you.”

  They spread their blankets several feet apart on a matting of leaves that only partially softened the rock-solid ground.

  “Where will Raúl be while you keep watch?”

  “Up yonder by the cave. He’s good with horses. If someone comes, he’ll be able to keep ’em quiet.”

  If he’s awake, she thought. But she kept her worries to herself. Tyler had enough on his mind. “Do you always take this route?” she questioned after laying her head on her saddle like he had showed her. Funny how the curve of the seat fitted her neck; sleeping on it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as she had feared.

  “Depends,” he responded from his own blankets. “I like to vary things, keep the Rurales on their toes.”

  “Do you think they know we’re coming?”

  “Not likely.” But he had waited so long to answer, she decided his response was for her benefit.

  “Don’t worry, love,” he added. “We’re gonna be just fine. I’m anxious for you to see Las Colinas.”

  His soft drawl lulled her. Quickly, before her will weakened, she turned her back to him. “Don’t call me that.”

  “What?”

  She stared into the distance, to the hills, breathless, as though she had just run up one of them. “You know what.”

  “Say it, Maddie.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Never. Please, don’t say it again.”

  He didn’t respond, and she knew he would do what he wished about it. He always did. Which was one of the things she loved about him. Loved, when she should have feared for her life.

  Two mornings later they arrived unmolested at the most beautiful place she had ever seen, or even envisioned. Together they watched the sun top a near tier of hills, splashing its golden light across the valley below them, turning dewdrops to diamonds, and the little creek that meandered its length, into a gem-studded belt.

  Fatigued in body and mind, she saw a rider race up the hill toward them and turn. It was Sánchez, bringing word that the way was clear, no Rurales in sight. She walked her horse beside Tyler’s down a grassy slope, coming at length into the verdant valley.

  “The creek runs out of the hills, yonder.” He pointed to the distant mountains, which were so far away they looked black in the clear fresh light of dawn.

  “Snow.” She pointed to white peaks in the distance.

  “Didn’t I promise you snow?”

  “Yes.” Her breath caught, but her pulse raced. “What a beautiful place! It feels like a whole new world.”

  Tyler took his time answering. When he did, it was in a subdued tone that echoed her own wonderment. “I feel that way, too. Always have. The first time I set eyes on this valley, I felt like I’d come home. I get that same feelin’ every time I ride down this hill.”

  Sánchez and Raúl had ridden ahead and were now no more than stick figures among the cattle that grazed by the stream. “The Rurales haven’t taken your cattle.”

  “Not yet. Let’s go. I need to get ’em movin’ before we’re discovered.”

  Strangely, for she had never considered herself overly brave, she wasn’t afraid of the Rurales. If they came, Tyler would protect her. She trusted him—with her life. And that frightened her more than a battalion of Rurales could ever have done.

  But ri
ding beside him down the hill, she was unable to think of anything except this one magnificent moment. For the few minutes it took them to reach a large structure that rose in the distance, she allowed herself to revel in the experience of being alive and riding through the coolness and the beauty beside this man who made her feel things she had never expected to feel.

  Memories, she insisted. She was making memories for the cold and lonely nights back in Boston. But she didn’t feel like she was making memories. She felt like she was living life. How easy to pretend they were coming home from some exotic journey, returning side by side to their beautiful cattle and their beautiful valley. When Tyler drew rein beside a burned-out adobe structure, she did the same.

  He dismounted, took her reins, and pulled both horses into what she supposed had once been a walled courtyard. Securing the reins to an exposed beam, he lifted his hands for her to dismount. “You’ll have to stay here, while I help those vaqueros round up.”

  Setting her on the ground, he turned to his saddlebags and withdrew a pistol. After checking the load, he handed it to her. She eyed it skeptically.

  “A precaution, Maddie. Sánchez has arranged for friends to guard the valley.”

  She glanced around, striving to quiet the panic that had begun to gnaw through her fantasy.

  “Take it,” he urged. “You don’t have to shoot anyone. Fire a warnin’ shot. I’ll be right out there with the cattle. One shot and I’ll be here.”

  She took the pistol, but refused to let herself look at it.

  “I’ll be back before nightfall,” he told her.

  In an effort she recognized as defensive, she scanned the crumbled walls and toppled black beams. “What is this place?”

  “My home.” He draped an arm around her shoulders and drew her through an archway. Both adjoining walls had crumbled to the tiled floor. “What’s left of it.”

  “Your home?” Madolyn caught her breath. “I thought…”

  “That I’d always lived in a hole in the side of a hill?”

  “No. I mean…What happened?”

  “Rurales burned me out.”

  “When?”