Dusty Britches (21 page)

“
Well, y
a
see, my daddy had this here old mule name a Ross.
”

Dusty watched her father begin to tell the tale. She loved to listen to her father tell stories. She
’
d missed
so much
by avoiding the evening fire outside.

“
Ol
’
Ross
up and kicked Daddy in the rear
-end one day while they was out plowin
’
together. Well, Daddy, he don
’
t take nothin
’
from a mule…so he hauls off and kicks ol
’
Ross in the leg. Ol
’
Ross kicks him back
,
and Daddy kicks him,
’
til all of a sudden my mama looks out the window and hollers,
‘Henry! You get out there and stop your daddy from kickin’ that mule!
’
Well, when my mama said,
‘
Go
,
’
I went! So I trot on out there
,
and Daddy
’
s still exchangin
’
kicks with that mule…
”

Dusty didn
’
t hear the rest of the story. She didn
’
t need to. Just being there with her family
—bathing in
the warm security of friendship with the hands
—
was enough. Enough to send her to bed with another new resolve to b
e a better, friendlier person—to let her guard down—let it
down in front of everyone except Ryder Maddox
,
that was.

E
ight days
had passed—eight days
since Hank Hunter
and Ryder Maddox
had returned from the drive. Dusty had expended most of her energy
each day trying to avoid Ryder. Certainly it seemed
they
’
d made
a kind of
unspoken peace the day
Alice
visited.
Still, he unsettled her, and she kept her distance as much as possible.
Other than
at
mealtimes, she
endeavored to avoid him entirely
. It was less painful, less vexing that way
—for whenever she was near him,
or near enough to see him, her heart would begin to ache.
Heartache was a threat—a threat of feeling something—and
Dusty didn
’
t want
to feel
.

On that eighth day
,
it was decided everyone would take a trip to town. Hank, good to his word, had given Ryder the day
off for besting the big cow while branding. He’d
thrown in half a day for everyone else to boot. Becca, with hardly any effort whatsoever, had also talked her daddy into buying the yellow dress in Miss Raynetta
’
s shop for her. There were supplies for the house Dusty needed
,
and several of the men had business to do in town. So
sitting high on the wagon seat between
her father and sister,
Dusty listened to the low, easy conversation
of the
ranch
hands as they
rode alongside
. Even Feller, who rarely found any use for town or the people there,
was accompanying them
.

“
Wipe that sour
-
pickle look off your face, girl,
”
Hank told Dusty.
“
I
’
m gettin
’
tired of that frown y
a
wear. It ain
’
t you, Dusty.
”

“
Don
’
t start chewin
’
me, Daddy,
”
Dusty whined.

“
I
’
ll start into chewin
’
anyti
me I want to! And I want to now.”

Dusty sighed.
She knew what was coming. She
’
d
heard it so many times before—h
ow she needed to get over the wrong
, the heartache heaped on her by Cash—h
ow a person couldn
’t let others ruin their life. Yet this time—
this time Hank
hit her
with something new
—something unexpected
.

“
How do y
a
think it would make your mama feel to know you
’
re carryin
’
on like this?
”

Dusty looked to him quickly, all too aware of Becca climbing from the
wagon seat beside her to the wagon bed behind
. Becca
habitually slunk
away whenever the subject was
raised by their
father.

“
That
’
s not fair, Daddy,
”
Dusty told him.

“
Yes, it is!
”
Hank argued.
“
Your mama wouldn
’
t have allowed you to do this! You w
ouldn’t have done this to her, b
ut y
a do it to me…f
eelin
’
sorry for yersel
f and throwin’ self-
pity to all the world.
”

“
I
’
m not that bad, Daddy,
”
Dusty argued, feeling mostly an
gry but hurt too—h
urt by her daddy
’
s disappointment in her.

“
Yes, y
a are. You are that bad…a
nd it
’
s selfish, Dusty. Plain selfish.
”
Hank looked to his daughter for a moment.
“
I mean…what
’
s this?
”
he asked, gesturing to her hair.
“
Y
a
look like
some ol’ tight-lipped spinster.
Heck! Everybody calls Raynetta McCarthy a spinster
,
and she don
’
t
look so severe as you.”

“
S
evere
?
”
Dusty asked, unable to believe she had heard him correctly. Before she could move to avoid it, her father had reached over and pulled out the pin
holding
her hair in a tight bun at the back of her head.
“
Daddy!
”
she scolded as her hair fell in thick, brown cascades over her shoulders and back.
“
We
’
re goin
’
to town!
”
she complained, reaching for the pin a moment before her father
flicked
it
into the air
.

“
Then braid it up soft and nice like y
a
used to. I
’
m sick of it, Dusty! I know you
’
re better than what you
’
ve become
,
and I ain
’
t gonna tolerate it no more.
”
Dusty could see her father
’
s jaw clenching and unclenching angrily. He was mad. She knew arguing with him just then was pointless.
“
And I want y
a
to have Miss Raynetta hook y
a
up in a new dress too.
”

“
Daddy
—”
she began to argue.

“
I mean it. We
’
re goin
’
to the picnic on the Fourth as a family, and I won
’
t have y
a
detractin
’
from your sister and ruinin
’
her fun this time with your starched
-up
, arrogant attitude.
”

Sl
owly and very self-consciously—
for she noticed the conversation
between
the
ranch
hands riding behind
the wagon had stopped—
Dusty began to work her
hair into a loose French braid. When she’d finished, she twisted
a strand of hair at the end
and tucked it, securing the braid
.
She tired to ignore the heated blush on her cheeks—tried not to hate her daddy in that moment for making such a fuss in front of the hands.

Sometime later, when her daddy pulled the team to a halt in front of Miss Raynetta
’
s dress shop, Dusty hopped down from the wagon and began marching up the steps to the shop.

“
Get your attitude straightened out before I get back,
”
Hank told her.

She glared back at him—
anger and humiliation raging within her.
H
e simply raised his eyebrows
in a silent scolding,
and she
bit her lip to silence her frustration
. She watched as Feller took Becca by the waist and lifted her out of the wagon. All the other hands looked away in disco
mfort when Dusty looked at them—a
ll of them but Ryder. Ryder simply stared at her with no apparent expression.

“
Come on, Becca,
”
Dusty urged
with irritation.

Becca paused, uncertain about joining her.

“Oh, come on.”

“
I
’
m sorry Daddy got onto you, Dusty,
”
Becca offered in a whisper
as she followed Dusty into the dress shop
.

“
Don
’
t worry about it,
”
Dusty mumbled.

A bell rang, triggered by the door
when
the girls entered Miss Raynetta
’
s shop
. In the next moment,
Miss Raynetta McCarthy
fairly floated
in from the back room.

“
Well, lookie here!
”
she greeted, obviously delighted to see the girls.
“
Angels! I tell y
a
, you two are simply angels!
”
She took each girl by the shoulders in turn, kissing them on both cheeks.
“
And what brings y
a
into the shop today, ladies? Perhaps a certain yellow dress I
’
ve had set aside?
”
With a wink
,
she nodded knowingly at Becca.

Even for her dark mood and prideful attitude, Dusty could not help but smile at the woman. She wore orange today
—t
he brightest pumpkin orange Du
sty had ever seen anyone wear, a
bright orange dress with no collar. She had a simple black ribbon tied around her throat and long, dangling
,
beaded earrings. This was, with the exception of her mother, the most delightful woman Dusty had ever known.

“
Daddy says I can have the dress, Miss Raynetta!
”
Becca told her
with delight
.

Miss Raynetta smiled. Her eyes
widened, and
she
shrugged her shoulders excitedly.
“
I knew he would! And wait until he sees you in it!
”
T
urning to Dusty, she said,
“
I haven
’
t put a new dress on you in quite a
while, Dusty. What do y
a
say we find y
a
one today? Oh, and I love your hair like that. It
’
s so very becomin
’
.
”
Miss Raynetta reached out and pulled a strand of hair from the braid
,
letting it hang in a soft curl from Dusty
’
s temple.
“
You really should wear your hair down, sugar plum. You
’
re far too young to be stretchin
’
it back all tight in an old knot.
”