Dashing Druid (Texas Druids) (22 page)

All morning, his thoughts had circled around Lil. Until last night, he’d only dreamed of how good it might be between them. Now he knew, and he ached to share that wondrous ecstasy with her again – over and over again. Hearing her deny it was more than some animal urge, on top of being ordered to leave her alone, flayed him more cruelly than the panther’s claws. His torn flesh would mend, but would he ever get over his longing for Lil?

He had only himself to blame. Hadn’t he made up his mind to let her be after Fort Worth? He should have marched her straight back to camp last night after her stilted thank you speech – something he hadn’t expected or wanted. Instead, he’d begged a kiss from her and had allowed it to grow into full-blown passion.
Fool! Look at ye now, acting like a hurt schoolboy because she wants no more to do with ye.

Aye, but she had no such feelings last night. He would have known. Still, perhaps he ought to have expected this. He’d taken her virginity and bid her goodnight without a word of reassurance. Now she likely feared she’d find herself in a family way, and she obviously didn’t trust him to stand by her in that event. But she was wrong. He might have nothing to offer but his name, but he would gladly give it to her if she needed it. Ha! If she would take it.

* * *

Two days later, Rusty Grayson tangled with a bad-tempered longhorn and got hurt when his horse went down. Tye was among those gathered around the injured cowboy while Chic assessed the damage. Standing nearby, Lil avoided his eyes. They hadn’t spoken since the other morning.

“Well, yore arm’s broke,” Chic told Rusty, sitting back on his heels. “Guess yuh knew that. I don’t think yuh busted anything else. Reckon I better set the arm and rig a sling.”

The drover groaned. “Doggone, it’s my ropin’ arm.”

“That’s bad luck. Yuh won’t do no ropin’ for a while.”

Del Crawford had stood grim and silent during Chic’s examination. Now he sighed heavily. “Rusty, you’re a good hand. If we were closer to Kansas, I’d try to keep you on, but with so much country left to cross, I’ll have to replace you.”

Rusty nodded dejectedly. “I know, boss. Guess I knew it the minute my arm snapped.”

“I’m sorry, boy. After Chic fixes you up, I’ll see you safe across the Red.” Addressing Neil MacClure, Del said, “I’ll try to pick up a hand at the Station. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Getting a nod from the Scotsman, Del turned to Tye. “Devlin, you take Rusty’s spot. Kirby can cover drag by himself ’til I get back.”

“Aye, sir,” Tye said, staring at him in astonishment. He frowned as the older man headed for his horse. Crawford had sworn to keep him on drag for the entire drive. Was this some sort of reward for rescuing Lil back at the river? She was alive; that was reward enough. He thought he’d made that clear.

Catching the wave of surprise and irritation that radiated from Lil as she watched her father ride away, Tye realized she wasn’t pleased by Del’s decision either. Her reaction irked him even though he felt the same way. Did she think he wasn’t fit to take Rusty’s place? She glanced at him, and he cocked an eyebrow in challenge. Eyes flashing, she knelt to help Chic set Rusty’s arm.

* * *

Lil sat by the campfire the following night when her father returned with a replacement for Rusty. Little older than thirteen-year-old Jubal, the newcomer sported freckles and light brown hair. Her pa introduced him as George Schumacher. The middle son of a saloon keeper at Red River Station, he wanted to be a cowboy.

“How’s Rusty doing?” Lil asked as soon as introductions were over.

“He’s all right,” her pa replied, dishing up leftovers for himself. “He means to rest up a while at the Station, then head home. I reckon he’ll spend the pay I gave him on whiskey.”

He glanced at George, who stood shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other. “Get a plate, youngster. If you’re gonna be a cowboy, you’d best line your innards.”

“Y-yessir,” the youth stuttered, hurrying to obey.

Lil hid a smile behind her hand. The boy would take plenty of hazing, just like Jubal and Kirby. So had Tye at first, but he’d long since proven himself to the men, and he’d sure made her father do an about-face toward him. All because he’d saved her bacon at the river. When Pa assigned him to replace Rusty, she’d gotten a hunch Pa was suddenly seeing Tye as son-in-law material. He’d best forget the idea.

Marriage wasn’t in the cards for her and the dashing Irish Yankee. He was a tumbleweed. He’d probably be gone with the summer wind. She’d been wrong to lie with him; she mustn’t repeat that mistake. Yet she couldn’t help thinking of him – and wishing.

Tye was riding night herd right now. Out there alone, was he thinking of her? she wondered as her father sat down to eat. Caught up in her thoughts, she paid little attention to his conversation with Neil MacClure until he mentioned seeing Judd Howard’s herd. That made her sit up straight and listen.

“Judd brought his bunch across the river this morning. Puts him about three days behind us,” Pa said.

Lil didn’t like the sound of that. She’d hoped the rain would hold the Circle H drive back far enough to prevent another run-in between Tye and Frank Howard. Instead, the Howards were only three days’ drive away, a matter of hours for a man on horseback. And Frank wasn’t one to forget a grudge. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

* * *

Tye stared at a small party of Indians as they trudged toward the herd the following afternoon. Stationed at left swing today, he happened to be near at hand as the Indians approached. They were the first he’d seen since entering the Territory, and he was frankly shocked by their wretched condition. Ragged and dirty, they carried or dragged their meager possessions on travois. There wasn’t a horse among them.

Del
and Lil rode back to join him, Dewey loped forward from his flank position, and Neil cut a path through the moving herd. Together, they waited for the straggling band to draw near.

“Comanches,” Dewey said with distaste. “Don’ look so mean since Colonel Mackenzie whupped ’em. Prob’ly headed over Fort Sill way to give up like their kin.”

“Most likely,” Del agreed. “Stay loose, all of you, while I palaver with ’em. My guess is they’re only after a handout, but there could be more just over the hill. With guns.”

Noting the Indians’ thin, haggard faces when they stopped a few yards away, Tye doubted anyone in their weakened condition could wage a fight. Still, he heeded Del’s advice and loosened his rifle in its saddle scabbard. The others did likewise, except for Lil. Seeing her stare at the filthy, half-naked women and children, he picked up her feeling of horror at the pitiful sight. He didn’t blame her; he felt much the same way.

There were three men with the band, all of them old. One, a gray-haired ancient with wizened features, stepped forward. He wore a dirty breechclout of dark blue blanket cloth and saggy animal skin leggings with beaded designs that might have been beautiful once. Now they were caked with filth and falling apart.

The old man made a series of hand motions that Tye took to be sign language, and Del answered in the same manner. After another flurry of gestures, the Indian pointed toward the herd and grunted something that sounded like “wohaw”.

Del
scowled. “You called it, Dewey. They’re heading for the fort. He says first the whites took away the buffalo, then Mackenzie killed their horses back at Palo Duro, and they can’t hunt. So they want ten fat beeves instead.” Shaking his head adamantly, he made a sharp gesture of denial.

“Pa! They’re starving!” Lil exclaimed. “You can’t just turn them away.”

“Didn’t say I was, but I’m not handing over ten prime steers, neither.” He turned to Tye and Dewey. “You boys go on back and cut out two of the lamest drags. We’ll give ’em those.”

Tye caught Lil’s frown of dissatisfaction before he rode off with Dewey to follow Del’s order. Like her, the Indians weren’t too happy with the compromise, but they accepted it, not having much choice. When Tye saw the last of them, they’d butchered the two cattle and were ravenously consuming the meat – raw. His gorge rose at the sight.

Later, while eating his own dinner, he commented, “I can’t get over those poor beggars this afternoon. They tore into those two steers like a pack of wolves.”

Lil sat nearby along with several of the men. Hearing her fork hit her plate, Tye glanced at her. Her eyes held black rage.

“You didn’t like their manners, huh? Well, maybe if you hadn’t eaten in days, you wouldn’t be too particular about how and what you ate, either.”

Stung by her biting comment, he defended himself. “I’ll admit I was shocked, but mainly I felt sorry for them. The same as you.”

“Save your pity!” she flared, jumping to her feet. “They don’t want it. All they want is their life back, the life greedy, land hungry whites stole from them.” Looking him up and down as though he were personally responsible for the Indians’ plight, she whirled and stalked off.

“Saints above! I didn’t take their land or their way of life,” he fired off at her retreating back. She didn’t even slow down.

The other men laughed at the tongue-lashing she’d given him.

“Howl, ye banshees!” Tye snarled, shoving to his feet. “And may Old Scratch hear ye and come callin’.” Leaving them to chew on that, he strode to his night horse.

To his surprise, Del followed him. “Lil’s a might prickly where Indians are concerned, being part Cherokee herself,” he said.

“Aye, so I noticed,” Tye snapped, tightening his cinch strap. He took a calming breath and turned to face the other man. “Doubtless ye won’t believe me, but I meant no offense just now. I’ve been scorned for my Irish accent all my life. I’m not in the habit of dishing out the same to others.”

“I believe you,” Del said, even more surprisingly. He crossed his arms and studied the ground. “You know, Devlin, I took you for just another carpetbagging Yankee out to get what you could from Lil.”

Thinking of what had happened between Lil and himself, Tye flushed at her father’s words. “Mister Crawford, I never wanted to hurt –”

“Hold on, I ain’t done,” Del interrupted. “Now, you’ve proved plenty of times that you’ve got sand. But even a brave man might not risk himself to save Lil the way you did, unless he really cares for her. Leastways that’s how I’ve got it figured. So I won’t give you any more trouble.” He lifted a gray eyebrow, and his mouth twitched. “’Less you got it coming, that is. And I won’t stand in your way with my daughter.”

Thunderstruck, Tye shook his head slowly. “I appreciate that, sir, but I very much doubt Lil will even speak to me again.”

The trail boss chuckled. “Give her time, boy. She’s got a burr under her blanket right now, but she’ll settle down. Wait ’n see. Now you’d best get out to the herd with Dewey. Glad we had this little talk.”

“Aye,” Tye muttered as Del strode away. Mounting up, he didn’t for a minute believe Lil would ‘settle down’. Nor did he think Del would hesitate to kill him if he knew his daughter had already given herself to him without benefit of marriage. Either that or he’d drag the two of them before the nearest preacher.

* * *

Several nights later, Lil lay back against the small rise of ground at her back and stared at the night sky. She’d walked out from camp, tired of the men’s jokes and laughter. It seemed everything rubbed her the wrong way lately.

Tye was the reason. After his callous remark about those Comanches they’d met, she ought to dash him from her head, but how could she when there was still a chance she might carry his child? More than that, the memory of his lovemaking tormented her, and feeling him watch her like a hungry hawk every chance he got only made it worse. Damn his blue Irish eyes!

“What are you doing out here by your lonesome?” her father asked from out of the darkness, making her jump and sit up.

“I . . . I’m just enjoying the quiet. It’s peaceful.”

He sat down beside her with a sigh. Fishing his makings out of a shirt pocket, he built a smoke by touch in the dark.

“You like it quiet, do you? Seems to me you used to enjoy listening to the boys spin tall tales around the fire. You turning into one of them recluses all of a sudden?”

“Of course not. I just wanted a little time to myself.”

“Time to mope over Devlin, you mean.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Lil snapped as he struck a match.

“Don’t lie. You never were much good at it. And stop treating that boy like a pile of cow chips. He didn’t mean anything by what he said about them durn Comanches. And he saved your hide back at the Red, case you forgot.”