Wyoming Wildfire (17 page)

“Don’t! You can’t want him to find us here like common beasts.”

“I’ll slit his throat,” Burch growled, shaken to the core by the passion that still caused every nerve in his body to feel like it had been scalded.

“I wondered where you’d got to,” Ned said as he mounted the rise of the grove of trees. “You’d better get to bed, miss, if you expect to put in a proper day tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Ned. Mr. Randall was just showing me how lovely the plain looks in the moonlight.”

“I expect it does, miss, but it don’t look near so pretty at dawn and that’ll be here before you know it.”

“We’re coming,” Burch said, still persecuted by the desire, dreamed of so long and snatched from his grasp so agonizingly. “Where’re you sleeping?”

“Under the wagon so I’ll be handy in case I’m needed.”

“You won’t be!” Burch growled. He snatched up the blanket and preceded them down the slope.

Sibyl lay in her bed of deep straw, unable to sleep, her mind racing with what had so nearly happened. She knew she desired Burch, had known it since the day he began to teach her to ride, but she didn’t know until now how deeply she felt about him; every thought was of Burch, every sound and smell, every touch under her fingertips reminded her of him in some way. Deep inside her body still ached for the fulfillment it alone understood and knew she had not achieved; it was a longing for something she didn’t understand, and that puzzled her. She had always known exactly what she wanted from life, and she thought the ranch was the way to get it, the way to be free in body and spirit. She had told herself she didn’t want to be a wife—blind bondage she called it; she wanted to do something, to be somebody, but she wanted it on her own terms.

Now she was in danger of falling into the trap with her eyes open. A stubborn, hardheaded, gorgeous man filled her thoughts more every day. Tonight she found he could make her want to do things she didn’t want to have happen to her. She wanted him, would dream of him all night, would wake tomorrow hardly able to wait to see him, and she couldn’t blame anybody but herself.

Why hadn’t she stayed at the ranch? Why had she been so determined to see a roundup? She wasn’t kidding herself and she doubted that she fooled Aunt Augusta either. She had come to see Burch; now look what had come of it.
Fool! You love him, don’t you?
She knew the answer as soon as the tears began to flow.

Burch walked restlessly about the camp, his conflict simpler but no less difficult to endure. Never had he desired any woman as he desired Sibyl, and this blinding physical need nearly drove him beyond his ability to control himself. To have aroused and then denied such a powerful passion was a punishing physical torment. He had been aware of his attraction to her from the first and had planned her downfall carefully, but his need, his hunger for her were fast becoming too great for any cool, systematic plan of action. Within a few short weeks, his emotional state was leapt beyond his control; in the beginning he had not considered marriage, but now he thought of their union as a matter of course.

He was certain they were destined to love each other, but first he would have to break down Sibyl’s barriers to love. Her mind might resist accepting their elemental attraction for each other, but her body had no such difficulty. He would use her desire for and need of him to destroy her resistance; it would be the battle within herself that would open the pathway to her citadel. It might not be the gallant way, but with Sibyl it was the only way they could be truly joined with one another.

Chapter 12

The cowboys rose before dawn. Sibyl was dragged from a deep sleep by the rattling of pans, the jingle of harnesses, and the cheerful joking of dozens of men with too much work to do and too little sleep. The cold air of early fall bit deeply into their lungs, and they crowded about camp fires to warm limbs numb from sleep and muscles stiff from strenuous exercise.

Sibyl buried her head under the covers in hopes of being able to sleep a few minutes longer but gave up when the noise grew louder rather than abated. She lay for a little while, listening to the interplay of voices, some high, others low, some joking, others clipped in morose irritation at the dawning of a new day. She smiled when she realized that with their peculiar slang, dialect, and the heavy sprinkling of profanity, she didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about. I might as well be in a foreign country, she thought, stretching pleasurably in the coziness of her wagon. She had provided herself with a thick bed of straw and a large pile of quilts, and had passed the night in comparative luxury.

Yesterday’s bracing air and exercise had made her very hungry, and when the smell of frying bacon and brewing coffee assailed Sibyl’s nostrils, she threw off her covers. The coldness of the morning took her breath away. With teeth chattering uncontrollably, she waited no time getting into her clothes. Even then she was unprepared to find the sky still dark, the ground crisp with frost, and the air cold enough to penetrate her clothing. It had not occurred to her that she would need anything more than a fur-lined vest, and she had to rub her arms vigorously to keep them warm.

“You’ll catch your death in that thin shirt, miss,” said Ned.

“I know that now, but I didn’t yesterday, and I didn’t bring any heavy clothing.”

“Throw one of them blankets over your shoulders.”

TO look foolish.”

“No more than anyone else. The boys wear their blankets more than they sleep in them.” Sibyl thankfully wrapped herself up to her nose and followed him to the chuck wagon. Several men sat huddled in blankets like Indians, sipping scalding coffee. She longed for a cup, but her stomach rebelled at the sight of the black liquid.

“Try it; it’s not as bad as it looks.” Burch was at her side, wide awake and smiling.

“How can you be in such high spirits when it’s still dark?” she asked with a yawn. “Not even chickens get up this early.”

“I never rode herd on any chickens so I’ll have to take your word for it, but it’ll be light soon and the cows will start to get restless. We have to be ready before they do.”

“Right now I’m not terribly fond of cows. I never realized how little time you have to sleep. And those awful songs droning in my head all night long. How can you stand it?”

“You get used to it. It becomes quite a comfort actually.”

“Not until you give them singing lessons.” She grimaced and accepted a cup of coffee from a hospitable young cowpuncher. “Are you
sure
I can drink this without getting sick?”

“I doubt it,” Burch laughed, and she thanked the bashful fella with as much genuine warmth as she could conjure up. She took one tentative sip. It was hot enough to scald a hog, but a shudder of revulsion convulsed her whole body.

“Horrible! How
can
you put this awful stuff in your mouth?” she said, gasping for breath.

“It does wake you up,” said Burch, unable to hide his amusement.

“I’d rather die than have to drink this stuff.”

“Sanchez doesn’t make it the way you like it. It’s this or nothing.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said with a satisfied smile. “No one told me I would be in danger of freezing to death, but I didn’t come without making some provision for my survival. See, I brought my own,” she said, pointing to Ned who had gone to fetch her coffee pot.

“How farsighted.”

“Actually, Aunt Augusta thought of it,” she confessed, and they both laughed. “There are some luxuries I can’t give up.” She settled her pot on the fire and waited impatiently for it to come to a boil. The remainder of the breakfast passed companionably until Burch asked what time she meant to start back for the ranch.

“I’m not going back. I intend to spend the whole day watching everything you do.”

“You know nothing of the work. You’ll only slow things down.”

“I
do
know enough to be able to tell when to get out of the way.” Her chin jutted out as it always did when she dug in her heels.

“Everybody will be off searching for cows most of the day, and you can’t go out on the trails.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not safe. You could get hurt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to fall off my horse, and there’s nothing out there to harm me.”

“I forbid you to go.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“I won’t take you with me, and Jesse won’t either.”

“Then I’ll go by myself,” she said stubbornly.

“Don’t be a fool.”

“You’re a fool if you think you an order me about, telling me what I can and can’t do, without giving me a single good reason why I should listen to you.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s not safe.”

“But you haven’t told me why.” Sibyl’s expression was fixed, and Burch knew that unless he took the time to escort her back to the ranch himself, she would be out there somewhere getting herself into God only knew what kind of trouble. As much as she infuriated him, he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

“I guess I’ll have to take you myself,” he conceded, yielding grudgingly to his fate. “It seems to be the only way to keep you from breaking your lovely neck.”

“Thank you.” She rewarded him with a shattering smile that caused his muscles to twitch all the way down to his toes. “You can explain everything to me as we go along.”

He groaned, dreading the role of mentor to a greenhorn, even one as beautiful as Sibyl. She hurried off, and Burch resigned himself to getting nothing done that day.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, he told himself. At least I’ll be with her and she can’t run away no matter how angry she gets. By the middle of the day, she’ll be too tired to want to do anything except lie down in her wagon. That was all right with him; he wanted her rested and restless tonight. He felt his desire for her rise even now. If she kept him at arm’s length for much longer, he was going to go crazy.

But the day did not unfold as he expected. Somehow Jesse managed to break away from his job and join them just before mid-morning. “You’re not riding Hospitality?” he remarked after a plainly unenthusiastic greeting from Burch.

“Burch says a saddle horse doesn’t make a good cow pony. He insisted I ride this one.” She was on a dun pony with a rough walk but a smooth canter, sure feet, and unlimited endurance. He had already covered miles of rock-strewn ground, sandy stream beds, and eroded terrain without stumbling or putting a foot down wrong. Burch was not riding Old Blue either. He explained that each cowboy has eight to ten horses in his string, and that the outfit keeps extra horses in the remuda in case some are lamed or worked too hard.

“He’s too much on the small side to be perfect,” Jesse said, “but you’re riding the best cow pony on the ranch.”

“Whose horse is this?”

“It doesn’t belong to any of the boys,” Jesse assured her, “and
I
can’t afford a string of ponies like that.”

Turning toward Burch, Sibyl surprised a very unfriendly glare directed toward Jesse. “It’s one of yours, isn’t it?”

Burch didn’t answer, but he couldn’t repress a twinkle.

Sibyl flushed. “Go on, I dare you to deny it,” she challenged.

“Okay, he’s one of mine, but as Jesse pointed out, he’s too small for a man of my size. He is an extra, just right for a featherweight like you, so I was telling the truth.”

“Only the part you wanted me to hear. That’s just like a man.”

“I cry truce, or do I have to be afraid you brought your rifle?” he asked with a grin. Her spurt of anger disappeared in the face of his good humor, and Jesse seemed to be the only one disappointed that they were soon on comfortable terms again.

They had been following Elkhorn Creek for several miles, and Sibyl’s attention kept wandering to the numerous hay meadows that lined its banks. She listened with only half an ear as Burch explained why he kept the crew through the winter while other ranchers paid them off.

“Any man who saves three steers pays for himself, and I get a much better price in the end from the extra care. In addition, I don’t lose my hands to another outfit so I benefit from the experience and loyalty.”

“But doesn’t it cost more?” she asked without thinking, and was momentarily disconcerted to see a tightening about Burch’s mouth.

“Uncle didn’t always keep his hands on, but we found it paid. I know you won’t be satisfied until you’ve seen the proof, so remind me to show you the books when we get home. Or maybe you’d prefer to check with Jesse?” This reading of her character rather shocked Sibyl, but it infuriated her as well.

“If you’re going to be paying these men anyway,” she retorted, “why don’t you keep the underweight steers and fatten them up next year when we have better grass? You’d get twice as much for them as you can now.”

“Not if they’re dead,” Burch snapped.

“Can’t you feed them?”

“Everything I have will go to feed your herd. I’ve tried to buy hay, but no one has any extra.”

She could have bitten her tongue. “What are their chances of surviving the winter?” she asked, considerably subdued.

“Not good. We’re better off than most because we didn’t let the cows graze our hay meadows, but the range is overcrowded and overgrazed. Everyone is facing the same problem, but the big outfits keep throwing herds on the range as fast as they come in from Oregon and Texas. Weak cattle could mean serious losses.”