Pioneer Passion (4 page)

Surprised at her good humor despite the pain
she felt yesterday, she hung out the wash. Pa would be sorely
missed but she’d get on with her life. She had to believe that her
father would want her to carry on. The only damper on her better
spirits was her brother not returning. Well with him or without
him, she’d get her home back one way or another. Now hope blossomed
as she prayed the cowboy would see how dry the lands were and
decide he didn’t want the place after all. Rusty fed Biscuit and
took the mule out for a walk.

“C’mon girl, I don’t want you to get lazy,
now that the work’s done.” She talked to her friend, telling the
beast all that happened since yesterday. “Oh, Biscuit, if only you
could talk and explain why my life is such a mess? Why this
handsome man affects me so strangely?” She let out a weary breath
and continued her one sided conversation with the animal.

“Every fiber in my body warns me against him,
but I can’t stop seeing his handsome face in my mind’s eye. How can
I hate him one moment and then in the next I feel excitement in the
pit of my belly when he’s near?”

Her weary head rested on the animal’s course
side and she smiled wanly seeing Biscuit turn to look at her sadly
as if she understood all that was said. Rusty wasn’t going to get
any answers from the dumb beast, so she took the mule to the pond,
their favorite spot.

“Maybe a little fishing will take my mind off
my problems. What’cha think, huh?” Biscuit brayed loudly and she
took it as a positive reply, making her smile.

Chapter Four

Guy entered the room and sat. Hearing humming
he smiled to himself because the kid seemed to be in a better mood.
It appeared that the lad had been lucky and had netted a few fish.
Hearing them sizzle in some lard he declared, “Mmmm that smells
good.”

The kid turned and the humming stopped. So
much for his better mood, he thought. And he didn’t notice until
now the well-chiseled lips that held a continuous pout, and he
swallowed audibly. Glancing away, he was disgusted for wanting to
touch those lips to see if they were as soft as they looked. He
removed that asinine thought hoping he wouldn’t stir up the kid’s
temper again. That one had a short fuse and he felt as if he was
always igniting it. Guy had been happy that they had settled their
differences earlier; now, if he could only settle the uncanny
feeling he felt when he was around that frustrating kid.

He received no response that his comment was
heard so he mulled over the decision he had made earlier. While
riding over his spread, he had found many watering holes for the
cattle that hadn’t yet dried up. What did he know about farming?
His expertise was in ranching and this was his chance to make
something of himself. Albeit, he believed that his idea would
produce an angry reaction from the kid, he had made up his mind. He
had thought seriously over the prospects of turning the farm into a
cattle ranch.

“Hey kid, I’ve been thinking and decided to
raise cattle on this land.”

“What?!” the boy screamed. “Tell me you
jest!”

Guy could see that his shocking statement
rendered Rusty dizzy and weak; the wind seemed to have been knocked
from his body like the bursting of a balloon. Unable to control his
shaking hands, the boy held the sizzling frying pan suspended in
mid-air. He stared dumbfounded at him for a moment, and then he
seemed to catch his breath.

“Make the farm a cattle ranch? That’s too
preposterous to comprehend. How could you do this to me?” he cried.
Some of the sizzling grease splattered on his hand and it appeared
as it took many moments for the pain to alert the kid’s senses. The
pan dropped on the table and he screamed and jerked his scorched
hand to his mouth to sooth it.

“Here, let me see that.” Guy took the lad’s
hand from his mouth.

Rusty yanked it rudely from his touch. “I
won’t take help from you and the hand doesn’t smart that much. In
fact, the few grease burns don’t hurt as much as the ache in my
heart. I’ll survive the splashes of grease, but not this! Leave me
alone,” he croaked.

Guy ignored the outburst and ordered him to
sit down while he went to his saddlebag for an ointment he carried.
The boy bristled at his command but did as he was told, and he
could see that Rusty was trying hard not to cry in his
presence.

He returned and took the boy’s wrist despite
his protest. “Hold still.” Guy tugged at his arm, pulling it
closer. Rusty squirmed at his soft strokes and he held is head
down. He looked at his patient and saw only the bent head covered
with that dirty, oversized hat. While rubbing the ointment on the
small hand, he thought it was strange that the kid should have such
delicate fingers. The callused hand trembled and he believed it was
due to the pain. Although he faulted himself for brining so much
unhappiness into his young life it was time the kid took life’s
disappointments on the chin. But Guy cursed himself, remembering
what a tiny chin Rusty had and how it quivered when he told of his
plan. Studying the dirty hat, he wondered why he wanted to take
this young person in his arms to comfort. He convinced himself that
it was just the brotherly instinct in him, that’s all, but at the
same time, he felt uneasy at the notion of holding the sad boy.
Once again, he wished he had never won this land and all the
problems that came with it. And, damn, he wished he could figure
out what exactly did disturb him about the lad, but he couldn’t
quite put his finger on it.

“I’m sorry, kid for all the pain I’ve caused
you, but we need to talk about….”

Hearing a muttered curse directed at him, Guy
figured that this was not the time to talk some sense into a
sulking kid. Since Rusty was determined to stay and fight him every
step of the way, he felt he was not going to have a minute’s peace.
Again he wished he had the foresight to have known the trouble that
awaited him, he would’ve gladly walked away from the game. But
hindsight was not important now, the place was his and here he’d
stay! Half of him wanted to take a switch to the kid’s bottom and
the other half wanted to comfort the teenager.

Guy never felt so helpless in his life and he
didn’t like the battle that he was fighting inside.

It appeared that Rusty didn’t want to hear
anymore and placed his hands over his ears. It was just as well,
because there was nothing more to say. He left feeling as if he had
just fought a battle against a dozen men, and not a battle of will
against a mere child!

Chapter Five

Rusty squeezed her eyes shut, but no matter
how hard she tightened her lids, tears fell freely; so much for her
willpower.

Why did she cry so much lately?

Guy probably though she was a sissy for a
boy. She told herself she didn’t care? She knew she was lying
because for some strange reason she cared. Even if that cowboy knew
she was a girl, she didn’t want to appear weak. All she could do
was pray that he would leave her alone and, as if reading her mind,
he had left. Good! Relieved she pouted, wondering why she felt a
bit slighted.

You’re such a ninny, taunted her
conscience.

“Oh, spit!” she cried into the empty room and
sat in the kitchen for a long time trying to make heads or tails
out of her predicament. That man was maddening in every sense of
the word and she expelled a tired sigh. It was bad enough that her
father lost his life because of that cowboy; now the heartless man
was going to take away all she had worked for. When her temper
cooled and the first shock wore off, her heart told her the
stranger wasn’t really responsible for her pa’s death, but to turn
this place into a cattle ranch gnawed away at her innards.

What other surprises would the handsome
cowboy have in store for her?

“It just isn’t fair,” she cried aloud. After
she cleaned the frying pan and tossed the ruined dinner out into
the yard, she sniffled. “Too bad, the fish looked and smelled
good.” This was the second day she hadn’t eaten supper and it was
all that damn man’s fault!

The next morning Rusty rose before hearing
the crow of a rooster. She was up early collecting eggs from the
few hens that still laid them. Many times she thought that chicken
soup should be made from the old non-producing hens, but they had
become like pets, and anyway, they’d probably be too tough to eat.
She yawned because of another sleepless night and decided it was
useless to plow fresh fields. It was way too late to plant new
crops, but laboring kept her and her mule busy.

Her shoulders slumped thinking how her pa and
Scott always laughed at her for plowing only to lay fallow, but she
cared not of their teasing because she loved the smell of freshly
turned dirt. Before her father’s death, she had hoped that they’d
come to their senses and help fill the fields with more trees,
dotting the groves with oranges aplenty. If only her mother was
still alive, then her dreams would have been fulfilled.

Rusty uttered a loud sigh when she remembered
how her father would give her the first orange picked each season
and how she giggled as sweet juices ran down her chin. She wiped a
tear from the corner of her eye. Now her fields would be trampled
by big, foul-smelling cattle. Disgusted at the thought, she snorted
and called, “Here, chick, chick.”

Scattering the last of the corn over the hard
ground a handful of scrawny hens clucked and fought over the feed.
Releasing another long, labored sigh Rusty thought how her few
underfed birds and an old mule seemed to be her only friends.
Looking at the chickens, it saddened her that they too wouldn’t be
around much longer. She didn’t see or hear Guy until his long
shadow startled her and she felt her face heat for being engrossed
in self-pity. He smiled a genuinely warm smile, but she turned away
trying to ignore the flutter in the pit of her stomach. It
persisted.

“We must talk,” he insisted.

Her shoulders stubbornly set, she walked into
the house.

Not happy with the situation, Rusty continued
to ignore the persistent man. Last night, after another good cry,
she accepted that there was no other conclusion but to stay and
earn her keep. She placed day-old biscuits on a plate for each of
them. It was the last batch she had made while waiting for Scott to
bring back flour. Now, it looked as though even he had deserted
her.

She turned to catch Guy staring at her and
faltered for a moment before placing the dish before him. Unable to
look into his handsome face, she began to eat her stale biscuit,
but found it extremely hard to swallow. She suspected it was her
uneasiness, not the dried-out bun, causing the discomfort. Why did
he have to be so handsome and have such a strange effect on her?
She could only hope it was due to loneliness and confusion. To get
her mind off the man, she turned her attention to the stove and
stared at the coffee pot, and realized she hadn’t brewed any and
knew he would want it. She moved a shoulder. Let him do for
himself! she groused inwardly not ready to do everything for him.
She waited for him to speak but the silence in the room shattered
her composure and she wanted to scream fearing what he wanted to
discuss. She figured that it couldn’t be worse than smelly cows.
Keeping her head down, she could feel his eyes on her wondering
what he was intending to say. It wouldn’t surprise her if he wanted
to raise buffalo on the land. She was glad her disgusted frown went
unnoticed. Rusty could see by the expression on his handsome face
that he was surprised to see she had offered him something to eat
though she was sure that he would have liked to have had some hot
coffee, especially to wash down the biscuit. Thankfully, the cowboy
let it slide, happy for the meager offering. Rusty also believed he
would have enjoyed that fish last night, as well as she. Guy said
nothing but he bit angrily into the hard bun, and winced.

“Today, I’m going into town to buy supplies
so we can have decent meal, in this house. It was no wonder you’re
so thin.” He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his
disheveled hair, a habit of late he wished he would cease. He
continued, his speech rushed, “It took most of the night to think
of a plan to keep peace between us and I hope my idea will be
accepted.” Guy stood. “I want you to listen to me before you voice
an argument.” He held up his hands as if to ward off any words that
might be flung at him but, the kid merely sat there and sulked,
giving him a sour-face. Guy looked past the sad emerald eyes not
knowing what to expect and he explained his idea. Minutes
overlapped minutes as he waited for any acknowledgment that he was
heard and the silence annoyed him, but then, a prolonged pout
turned into a small grin, and the kid nodded. His heart fluttered
in his throat, taken aback by the sudden smile. He was amazed,
thinking how the kid’s eyes twinkled and his face lit up.
Perplexed, he rubbed the back of his neck, loathing this flustered
feeling. Although, the boy’s voice was flat, edged with defeat,
when Rusty had accepted his idea, he had slapped his hat on his
head with a grunt of conten-tment. He wasn’t too sure he had really
won this battle, but relieved there might be some peace.

“I take it that you accept my offer to stay
and help.”

“Since I have no other alternative and I have
to accept the truth that I no longer own this farm. I will, for
now, take you up on your offer.”

Guy continued, “I’ll be leaving for town
soon, I plan to buy supplies and lumber. Also, I’m going to hire
some hands to build a new barn. I may be away for a few days but
I’m sure you’ll manage while I’m gone.” He was too relieved to care
about her cool treatment.

Rusty dug deep to find her voice, and
declared with authority, “I’ll get by.” She noticed that Guy
relaxed somewhat, rewarding her with one of his boyish grins. The
gift was accepted but she lowered her eyes feeling her pulse
quicken. She toyed with the half-eaten biscuit hoping he didn’t
notice the way her body trembled from only one smile. She wished he
would hurry up and leave before she broke into silly tears again.
What the hell was wrong with her?