Dusty Britches (52 page)

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Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure

BOOK: Dusty Britches
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But even as his kiss breathed passion, led her into
a
kissing she

d known with only h
im, only cared to know with him,
she could not return his embrace. The times in the past
when he’d kissed her,
she

d
never been able to embrace him—
to let her hands slide up and o
ver his chest to his shoulders—caress
him as she wished in her innermost soul to do. Her mouth surrendered to
him more than willingly enough,
every t
hread of her lost in delirium. Still,
she could not completely let go of her fear. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, feel his jaw under her palm working to weave his spell of ecstasy. But she couldn

t. And, after long mome
nts, she sensed the frustration—
the defeat in him. Though he smiled at her wistfully, stroked her lips
with his thumb, she knew she’
d disappointed him. The passionate kiss he

d meant to give to
her from the moment he returned—it
would never be fulfilled if she couldn

t be
completely lost in it with him.

Ryder tweaked her nose playfully
,
actually slapped Dusty on the bottom as if she were still a child
,
and said,

Run along now. You

ve wasted enough of your time tendin

me today.


Ryder,

she began. She wanted to beg
him to give her another chance—
plead w
ith him to be patient with her—
tell him she would die if he left her again.


Run along, sugar. Ain

t no more to say…today.

And he began walking toward the barn.

She watched him go, drowning in agony.
Why
?
she wondered. Why couldn

t she reach out and try to win his heart? He
’d
kissed her so intimately! Surely he would
be willing
to fill her heart if she could just reach out and take hold of him for once.


The bright flash of lightning followed almost instantly by a crash of thunder startled Dusty from her sleep. The exhausting night before coupled with the emotional twisting she

d endured at Ryder

s hand during the day had drained her
,
and she

d fallen asleep fast and deep. Now the rain was pouring down harder than it had all summer
,
and Dusty couldn’t believe she’
d slept through the beginning of the storm. Almost at once there was another flash of lightning and simultaneou
sly a crack of thunder overhead—
so loud that Dusty let out a startled scream. In the next moment, her bedroom door flew open to reveal a completely rattled Becca.


Dusty! This storm
—t
he
lightning is so close!” Becca exclaimed.
Dusty immediately rose from her bed and went to look out the window.

For Pete

s sake, Dusty
,
d
on

t stand so close to the window! Are you crazy?

The next bolt was almost blinding as it shot across the sky, but it wasn

t until Dusty covered her ears before the attending crack of thunder that she noticed the next bolt hit the ground near the center of the corral.


Is Daddy up, Becca?

she asked.

It

s gonna hit the house!

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than a streak of blinding light struck the chimney of the bunkhouse as Dusty looked on. As the accompanying thunder cracked, deafening in its volume, the fire sparked on the bunkhouse roof caught like dry grass in a prairie field.

“Daddy!” Dusty screamed. Turning, she fled
from the room without a word to Becca.

Daddy! The bunkhouse is on fire!

Hank Hunter
burst
out of his room wearing only his long underwear and boots. Not even pausing to answer her, he was through the kitchen and out the back door.


Daddy!

Dusty called after him. The lightning was still striking too close for comfort
,
and she knew the fire from the bunkhouse might also attract it.
Yet
even as Becca rushed into the kitchen
,
Dusty shouted,

Come on! Somebody might be hurt!

Oh, how she prayed silently and in mu
mbled words for Ryder’s safety—
for the safety of all the hands! Becca

s face was void of color
,
and Dusty knew she was saying her own silent prayers.

The rain was torrential! Dusty wondered as she stepped off the back porch and into the sheets of water how it was the bunkhouse continued to burn with such drenching moistu
re—
but it did. As Becca and Dusty raced toward it, they saw the men stumbling from the bunkhouse, dazed and coughing from the smoke.


Anybody hurt?

Hank shouted
.
Even though the lightning and thunder were moving a
way, the downpour was still deafening
.

Dusty listened and watched—
wiping the water from her eyes
.

Ruff coughed
,
and Titch answered,

Guthrie got conked on the head by a beam that fell! I couldn

t get to him
,
and
Ryder and Feller are still in there!

With unspoken understanding, Dusty looke
d to Becca, who looked to Dusty—
fear of an unrealized nightmare blazoned across both their faces.


Lord, help us!

Dusty heard her daddy pray as he started toward the bunkhouse.


No! Boss! It

s blazin

in there!

Ruff shouted, taking hold of Hank

s arm.


Those are my men in there, boy!

Hank shouted
, angrily
yanking his arm free.

As he ran toward the burning building, Ryder and Feller exited, dragging Guthrie by the feet and arms. For a moment, a vision flashed i
n Dusty’s mind of another fire—l
ong ago. Another fire and another rescue by Ryder, but the danger at hand left no time to reminisce.

After depositing the injured man at the feet of Dusty and Becca, Feller turned to Hank.

You want us to bucket line it from the well, Hank?

Dusty only wanted to tend to Ryder
,
who stood before her, coughing and covered in black soot. His right hand went to the stitched wound at his arm and pressed against it for a moment as he winced. Still, he seemed to be breathing all right, with no new
visible injuries. Guthrie, though s
till breathing, was unconscious. A
large lacerat
ion across his forehead bled
profusely.


Let it burn. There

s no savin

it now,

Hank mumbled as he stood watching the fire.

Least everyone

s out.

Dusty and Becca knelt and studied Guthrie

s wou
nd.

“Let’s get him to the house,”
Dusty ordered.
As
she stood and looked at all the
ranch
hands standing about, some dressed in nothing but trousers, some in their underwear and boots, she added,

Let

s get everyone into the house.


Titch and Ruff, you boys get Guthrie on in!

Hank ordered.

Feller, you, me
,
and Ryder are gonna get the stock out of the barn…just in case the wind changes and whips that fire over that
a
way.

He pointed to Dusty and added,

Get that boy tended to, girls. Then get th
em boys dried off and warmed up.
Get a fi
re goin’ in the kitchen, Becca.”

Dusty watched as, without a pause, Ryder, barefoot and wearing only trousers, started toward the barn. It was obvious his arm was giving him pain, but he ran off behind her father anyway. Feller, who had managed somehow to be wearing his boots and trousers, followed close behind.


Just lay him out on the table in the kitchen,

Dusty instructed Ruff as he and Titch worked to carry Guthrie inside.

Becca was close at Dusty

s heels. Almost immediately after entering the house, Dusty and Becca both began to shiver with cold. Realizing only then that both she and her sister stood there before the men in only their soaking wet nightdresses, she said quietly to Becca,

Run get a shawl for each of us, Becca.

Becca blushed and obeyed as Dusty began dabbing at Guthrie

s wound with a dishcloth.


Put a kettle on for me, Titch,

Dusty instructed.

Put somethin

under his feet
,
Ruff. He

s as pale as a ghost.

It was a long while
that Dusty and Becca tended to Guthrie, cleaning his wound and then making him comfortable. He was just beginning to gain consciousness when her father, Feller
,
and Ryder entered, dripping wet and looking like they were dead on their feet.


It didn

t catch the barn,

Hank announced.

Bunkhouse is nothin

but smolderin

ashes now. How

s Guthrie?


He

s comin

around, Daddy.
He

s got a big ol

goose egg on the back of his head…but it

s swellin

out, so he oughta be fine except for a headache,

Dusty answered.

“Good,”
Hank breathed with relief.

Then let

s ge
t these boys laid out somewhere.”

Dusty and Becca scrounged what extra blankets they could to help the men settle in on the floor of the parlor. Most of their own belongings, including clothing
,
had burned. After her father built a fire in the parlor hearth
,
and she and
Becca had seen the men
all bedded down as comfortably as possible, Dusty retired to her own bed and attempted to sleep.

The events of the past twenty-four hours

the fire, the rustlers
,
and mostly the moments spent in intimate exchange with Ryder

however, kept her mind too alive for sleep. So it was that in the early hours of morning, even too early for her father or the ranch hands to be up, Dusty carefully made
her way among the sleeping men. She
check
ed
each one to ensure they were as warm and
as
comfortable as possible. Here and there she

d pull up a blanket
,
and as she did, she wondered how long they

d all have to run around in their bare feet and underwear. She

d always worried about the men
who hired on at the ranch,
even when she was little. In the winter or during big storms, she would beg her mama to let them all sleep on the floor in the house, completely convinced they wouldn

t be warm and safe enough in the bunkhouse. As she grew older, she still worried. Guthrie and Titch coughed in their sleep
,
and Dusty winced
,
knowing the smoke in their lungs, coupled with the fact they

d all been drenched to the bone, would surely cause someone to take on a cold.

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