The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold (8 page)

Stepping into the smoky bar, it seemed to Carrie that the jackalope on the wall was actually smirking at her.
So who needs you to tell me I’m an idiot?
That fact was already assured by the way her heart lodged in her throat as she watched Estelle drag Judson onto the dance floor. It was impossible not to notice what a truly striking couple they made, both so natural and at ease in their movements.

Luckily, Carrie was given little time to brood. How she became the center of attention was beyond her, but it seemed as if suddenly every unattached man in the room was lined up to ask her to dance. It occurred to her that these tongue-tied, stoic Western men used danc- ing as a means of expression. Letting the lyrics and the rhythm of a song speak for them, they danced as wildly and as eloquently as the music allowed.

By the time the last strains of “Mommas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys” had faded, a bevy of eligible, young fellows was gallantly offering to teach her how to swing dance. A particularly gre- garious bronc rider by the name of Cody Trent finally succeeded in coaxing her to her feet. With a victorious smile, he placed his black felt cowboy hat upon her head.

Judson, who had been watching Carrie move from one dance partner to the next, gritted his teeth at the intimacy of Cody’s gesture. God, but she’s a beautiful woman. Something utterly sensual in the swish of her
light brown hair held him a distant captive. He noticed every minute detail about her: how her smile lit up the room, how Cody’s hat framed her heart-shaped face, how his hand rested suggestively on the small of her back….

Openly scowling at them from the bar, he devoured Carrie with his dark, smoldering gaze. As Cody led her toward the dance floor and into a lively two-step, jeal- ousy and anger sprouted a split vine inside Judson’s battered heart.

As keenly aware of the sawdust beneath her feet as of Cody’s hand placed snugly on the small of her back, Carrie considered exactly what it was about cowboys that held such worldwide allure. Perhaps in this time of confusion as to whether a man should be a warrior or a poet, both sexes were drawn to the clearly defined image of the cowboy swaggering in the certainty of his own masculine identity.

As Cody swung her gracefully along beside him, Car- rie laughed aloud with the sheer exuberance of just be- ing alive. Bestowing a dazzling smile upon her partner, she solemnly vowed to kick up her heels more often.

When the band switched to a slower melody, Carrie slipped from Cody’s arms. Turning to seek out her chair, she ran smack-dab into Judson’s broad chest.

“Would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asked, sweeping the hat from his head. The seductive timber of his voice shifted Carrie’s pulse into double time. She had never met a more appealingly dangerous man in her life.

Letting his gaze linger on her flushed countenance before falling to the full, soft swell of her breasts, Jud- son’s eyes narrowed with predatory interest.

“I promise to go real slow.”

That silken promise brought carnal images to mind, and Carrie forced the air into her lungs in short, shallow gulps. Where was that iron will she had always before been able to exercise over such wayward thoughts? The challenge glistening in the depths of those cerulean blue eyes left her helplessly entranced. The God’s honest truth of the matter was that Carrie had been wondering for quite some time what it would be like to dance a slow one with Judson Horn.

Against her better judgment, she nodded her head yes.

A magical something passed between them as he took her hand in his and led her to the center of the crowded dance floor.

This is dangerous. Dangerous and exciting…
Carrie thought to herself, hoping that she wouldn’t trip over her own two feet and again verify his opinion of her as a bumbling Eastern dudette.

Those thoughts fled the instant Judson wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close against his chest. Assailed by his clean, masculine scent, she felt the heat shimmer over her skin as she was lifted away by the intensity of emotion that washed over her.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, succumbing to the temptation to brush aside a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Judson felt its silky texture between his fingers. A kitten could be no softer.

Carrie’s only response was an inaudible sigh. That wonderful heat coming from his body made her feel warm all over. As she nestled her head against his shoulder, she felt him tighten his hold around her waist. For one fleeting moment, she put aside her fears and allowed herself the indulgence of floating away to the
strains of a romantic waltz enfolded in a pair of arms that she suspected could be just as gentle as they were strong.

Next to hers, his heart beat savagely, stirring her own blood to its wild refrain. Carrie told herself that what she was feeling was insane. Aside from the insurmount- able fact that he was her boss, Judson Horn was totally wrong for her. They had absolutely nothing in common. Any fool could see that a relationship with such a man was destined for failure. She was pretty sure he held more affection for his livestock than he ever could for a woman! Still, whatever she had once upon a time felt for Scott was nothing compared to the bombardment of senses and emotions that Judson evoked in her. This was like being swept away without a raft in a raging river. This was going over a waterfall and rejoicing in the certain destruction that lay at its end. Crashing, crashing, crashing into the mists of passion….

With a start Carrie realized that the music had stopped and that she and Judson were center stage, lost in one another’s arms. Feeling the scrutiny of the whole assemblage, she stepped out of the circle of his warm embrace.

With flushed cheeks, she hurried back to her table.

Estelle was waiting for her.

“Jud’s one helluva dance, ain’t he?” she asked, her dark eyes narrow slits.

Carrie took a long swallow from the glass of punch Cody had given her. Never before had a drink tasted quite so good.

Feeling her way as cautiously as if she were walking through a minefield, she answered, “He certainly is.”

For the first time all evening, Estelle chose her words carefully. “Did you know that he and I used to win
dance contests all over the state when we were just kids?”

Carrie shook her head no. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Even way back then I had my cap set for him. Did you also know he broke my heart by eloping with the prom queen the same day we graduated high school?”

Carrie’s eyes darkened as she tried to picture Judson as a young man in love.

“Of course…” Estelle added, taking a sip of beer and looking at her as though from behind the sights of a rifle. “The little white princess’s brothers were none too happy about her marrying a breed.”

“Enough!” Judson’s voice was a low growl.

“What’re ya afraid of?” queried Estelle, meeting the icy fury in Judson’s eyes head-on. “That once our lily- white schoolteacher knows you’re a half-breed she’ll expect you to begin every sentence with ‘how’?”

Crackling with anger, her laughter rose hyenalike into the dark, smoky air.

“You never did have sense enough to stop when you were ahead, did you, Stella?” Judson’s voice was the sound of dry reeds rustling in the wind as he turned and walked away.

Fondling her beer bottle, Estelle turned her ire upon Carrie. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way Jud looks at you,” she snarled. “I’m afraid he’s done gone and gotten himself twitterpated over you, city girl. It’s for your own good that you know just exactly what you’re letting yourself in for.”

“Surely you don’t think—”

Continuing as smoothly as if Carrie had not even opened her mouth, Estelle wasn’t about to let herself be interrupted. “I don’t hold no grudges against you
per- sonally
—it’s just your kind is all.”

“My kind?” Carrie asked, dumbfounded.

“The white kind. The wrong kind for Jud.”

Tearing at the label of her beer bottle with long, red fingernails, Estelle laid her heart on the table. “I don’t mind admitting that I’m head over heels in love with Judson. It ain’t no secret. Everybody knows it. But to be honest with you, short of hog-tying him, I don’t think there’s any way to ever get him to make that trip to the altar again—and definitely not with another white gal. Whether or not he’s willing to shack up with one is another matter, though I dare say the parents round here might take exception to that kind of an arrange- ment—you being a role model for their precious little darlings and Jud being chairman of the board and all… Not to mention how well an interracial affair would be received amongst the
good folk
here.”

Estelle’s crude remark was another pointed reminder of how fragile Carrie’s status in this community really was. She had an ugly premonition that this conversation was on the verge of erupting into a free-for-all. Still curious despite her intense desire not to be, Carrie re- mained rooted to her seat. It was hard to refrain from asking all the questions rushing through her mind. What difference had race played in Judson’s first marriage? How had his brothers-in-law entered into the picture? And how could anyone as stunning as this woman fail to capture any man’s heart she set out to claim?

“Well, don’t say you ain’t been warned. Just remem- ber a breed’s an outcast, accepted by neither Indian nor white,” Estelle said, throwing back her head and down- ing the last of her beer. “And the scars you can see ain’t nothing compared to those you can’t.”

Setting the empty bottle down on the table with a hollow thud, she stumbled to her feet, adding shrilly,
“Oh, and one more thing…When you get a chance, tell that son of the devil he can find himself another baby-sitter for those ornery twins of his!”

With a swish of her yellow skirt and a jangle of tur- quoise jewelry, Estelle passed through the swinging doors of the Atlantic City Mercantile and into the black Wyoming night.

Stepping up beside Jud at the bar, Bill Madden ven- tured a question. “So what do you think of our new teacher now?”

“She’ll do, I guess,” was Judson’s terse response.

Still smarting from his confrontation with Estelle, he was inclined to think all women were more trouble than they were worth. It would probably be wise to just call it an early night.

“I knew if you’d just withhold judgment until she’d had a chance to prove herself, you’d—”

“And I’m telling you to wait and see what happens when winter hits full-blast and life-of-the-party
Ms.
Ra- ben discovers subzero weather is more than what she’d bargained for. When, come midterm, our kids are left without a schoolteacher and there’s damned little chance of finding a replacement!”

“You’re too young to be such a curmudgeon,” the superintendent said, slapping Judson on the back with a familiarity that, considering his present state of mind, was a tad risky.

“She’s terrific! The kids all adore her, and every par- ent I’ve talked to purely gushes with praise for her.”

Judson wasn’t listening. He was looking thunderously at the table where Carrie sat as the belle of the ball. By the way she had reacted when she thought he was drink- ing a beer on the ride from Rock Springs, he’d assumed
that she was a teetotaler like himself. He’d also paid attention at dinner, noticing that she had stopped at one glass of wine. He remembered her telling the waiter that she seldom drank, and unless he’d been mistaken she hadn’t been drinking anything else but punch the rest of the evening.

So that dazed look on her face just didn’t add up— not until Judson caught sight of a silver flask from under Cody Trent’s jacket. Suddenly it was as plain as that stupid jackalope on the wall that he was spiking the punch. The way he kept pouring it down Carrie between dances made Judson wonder how the poor thing was able to stand at all. It was obvious to him that a certain stud was intent on taking advantage of their pretty new schoolteacher.

Catching a glimpse of bewilderment glistening in eyes the color of a spring meadow, Judson felt a hot gush of protectiveness well up inside him. Damn it all to hell! When had he gone and gotten so soft in the heart? What difference was it to him whether this little greenhorn was in over her head or not?

Judson didn’t take time to consider the answer to those questions. Pushing back his hat, he wondered how in hell he was ever going to pluck this innocent, little lamb from the midst of a pack of wolves without getting himself killed in the process.

Snuffy and her husband were off jitterbugging with gusto, leaving Carrie surrounded by men vying for her attention. For the life of her, she couldn’t understand why she was suddenly feeling so giddy. Her head was spinning as she smiled demurely at the blur of faces around her.

“I don’t remember any of my teachers looking like
you,” simpered Ted Barrows, a young man destined to inherit one of the most successful ranches in the county.

Pulling up a chair, Judson ignored the hostile glares he received from the other men as he edged in beside Carrie. Leaning close to her, he whispered in her ear, “I think you’ve had enough for one night. Why don’t you let me walk you back to your room?”

At the sight of Judson’s arm draped about the object of his desire, Cody Trent bristled. “Excuse me, but Car- rie and I was just about to scoot a boot on the dance floor.”

Judson pushed his Stetson casually back to better re- veal eyes the color of gunmetal. “Why don’t you just scoot your butt out the door instead?”

Cody jumped to his feet. “And why don’t you just try to make me,
chief?”

Standing, Carrie placed herself precariously between the two men. Her head was swimming.

“Maybe you’re right, Jud,” she interjected woozily.

“Sit down,” commanded Cody, never taking his eyes off Judson for a second. “I ain’t about to be shot out of the saddle tonight, leastwise not by a damned breed!”

The room grew ominously silent. The band trailed off. in midsong as every eye in the bar swung to the two men facing off center stage like bull elk locking horns.

“You already have been, cowboy,” Judson coun- tered smoothly. “Next time, why don’t you try hitting on a lady without lacing her drinks first?”