Читать книгу To Tempt A Texan - Georgina Gentry - Страница 9

The town of Guthrie was bigger and more disorganized than the one she’d just left. There must be ten thousand people roaming about the prairie, setting up tents, unloading wagons. The afternoon air rang with shouts and the sound of hammers banging together shabby shacks. Somewhere a dog barked and a baby cried. People pushed past each other in the disarray, and new arrivals clogged the dusty road. She hated the confusion since she liked everything orderly and perfect, but then, this was an unusual and exceptional day. She couldn’t even wash her face or comb her hair; she couldn’t spare the time. Tomorrow when she got her land claim filed, she’d get her life straight and print the first edition of her newspaper.

Precious had finally stopped yowling but the chickens still squawked and here and there folks turned to grin and stare. She felt very conspicuous and tried not to notice the pointing fingers and the dog still walking alongside her wagon, looking up at her, tongue lolling. The dog must be tired. “Here, hop up, what’s your name? Oh, yes, Lively.”

When she snapped her fingers, the bloodhound jumped up in the wagon next to her and tried to lick her face. “You’re as bad as your master,” she complained. “Are you always so familiar with ladies you don’t know?”

In answer, the dog settled down next to her and dropped off to sleep.

She thought of the gambler with grim satisfaction. Served him right. He’d probably always had his way with women and had never met one crafty enough to beat him at his own game. She’d get her claim filed and then deliver the chickens to the army. “Hey,” she yelled at a young boy who stared at her moving menagerie, “where’s the land office?”

He pointed wordlessly and Lacey drove up that street. She found the shack with a board hanging across the front proclaiming “Land Office.” There was a long line of men out front, but no women. Even though women were allowed to make the run and claim their own land, most wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Around her wagon in the swirling dust, people came and went in mass confusion. There were settlers in canvas-covered wagons, cowboys, soldiers, a few women carrying crying infants. Here and there a dog barked and a mule protested the amount of work along the main street of this raw new town. Ragged tents dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. It appeared soldiers were attempting to bring a semblance of order, but without much success.

“At least I’m part of history,” she said to herself, thinking what a good front page story the land rush would be for the first issue of her paper. She hoped Isaac had managed to get the printing press and supplies unloaded. Lacey smiled. She was hot and tired, but triumphant. She’d get her claim registered and then let Blackie O’Neal howl like a wounded coyote about it.

Lacey tied up her horse at a hitching rail and got down. “Come on, Lively, let’s get in line.”

The hound’s tail thumped as he joined her in the line before the claim office. The line didn’t seem to be moving very fast. She felt perspiration running down inside her dusty, torn shirtwaist and her lips felt dry. Oh, what she’d give for a drink of water. She looked around. In the confusion of people coming and going, she didn’t see a pump or even any barrels of water. If she stepped out of line, she might not get back in. She did see a horse trough in front of a small store. Lively wandered over and got himself a drink, then came back and dripped water on her shoes. She took the edge of her skirt and gingerly wiped them off. She must look a mess, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now without getting out of line. The line inched forward. At this rate, all these people wouldn’t get processed tonight and would have to come back tomorrow.

Heads seemed to be turning, looking at her torn blouse and her tangled hair. She tried self-consciously to pull the blouse closed and brush her hair back. She’d always been so persnickety about everything. Lacey liked everything orderly and here she was looking like a rumpled, unmade bed and accompanied by a ridiculous dog with the saddest expression she’d ever seen. Time was too important to waste on her appearance today. “Lively, I hope you’re not as unhappy as you look.”

The dog’s tail thumped and he lay down nearby and promptly dropped off to sleep. Lively. The name must have been a joke. She craned her neck and peered ahead. The untidy line ahead must be at least a half block long and barely inching forward. Her feet hurt and she felt perspiration running down between her breasts. Ladies never perspired, they glowed, she reminded herself. While thirst was her biggest problem, she was getting a little hungry, too. Oh, she hoped owning her own land was going to be worth what she’d been through to get it. In her mind, she saw that Texas rascal rolling in the dirt and groaning. Yep, she grinned, it was worth it. She wondered if he’d limp on in to Guthrie or give up and go back? Five miles was a long way to walk in cowboy boots. She smiled when she thought about it. Served him right for not being a gentleman and ceding the claim to her.

Lacey heard titters and guffaws and turned to see where everyone was looking. Blackie O’Neal came up the street sitting on the back of an army wagon, his long legs dangling down. The wagon was loaded with horse manure and it smelled rank when the breeze blew the scent her way. Blackie himself looked like he’d been dragged through a knothole backward, all rumpled and dusty. His suntanned face appeared dark as a thunder cloud.

Uh-oh. She tried to shrink in line to make herself invisible, but she saw his eyes widen as he seemed to spot her. “Aha! Stop the wagon, driver.”

Then he was advancing on her in long, angry strides. “Great God Almighty! Thought you’d lose me, did you?”

“Hey, don’t break into line!” Several men yelled.

“I’m not breaking into line,” Blackie shouted back as he came up to her. “I’m with her.”

“No, he’s not!” Lacey protested as the gambler pushed into line beside her.

The little man behind her cleared his throat. “Stranger, the lady says you’re not with her.”

Blackie grinned at the little man. “Of course we’re together, little spat between me and the missus, that’s all. See how glad our dog is to see me?”

Indeed, Lively was gamboling around his feet, wagging his tail with delight and licking Blackie’s hand.

The other man smiled and nodded. “Me and the wife had a few dust-ups in our lifetime. You been married long?”

“Married?” Lacey protested. “Why—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Blackie cooed and took her arm, turning her toward the front of the line, “It just seems like hardly any time at all, don’t it?”

“One minute would be way too long,” Lacey seethed, “and don’t call me the missus—”

“Hush your mouth, sister,” he lowered his voice close to her ear so that she felt the warmth of his breath, “or else I’ll tell the nice soldiers about you attackin’ me and leavin’ me on the side of the road. I believe the charge would be assault and battery; maybe attempted murder.”

“Murder? All I did was knee you in the—”

“Tsk! Tsk! And you a lady, too.”

She took a deep breath to control her temper. “Stop reminding me before I do it again.”

“In front of all these people?” He looked around.

She was concerned about what other people would think and anyway, as stubborn as the Irishman was, she didn’t think she was able to discourage him.

“Sweetheart, hold my place and I’ll get a drink.”

“But—” before she could say anything else, Blackie and his fool dog had sauntered away. Damn him, she’d give anything for a drink of water, but he of course, was thinking of whiskey.

The line barely moved and she licked her dry lips. Even demon rum would be almost tempting. Then she remembered the humiliation of her wedding day. No, she’d never be that thirsty again.

In a few minutes, Blackie strolled up with a tall, cool drink in his hand and joined her. She snorted in disgust as she eyed the tumbler. “Where’d you get that?”

He sipped it and sighed. “Ahh! Very refreshing. It’s got ice in it, too. Did you notice?”

She looked at the moisture beading on the cold glass and ran her tongue over her dry lips. Of course she’d noticed. “Must have cost a lot to get ice around here.”

He nodded and grinned. “A dollar. Want a sip?”

“A dollar? That’s outrageous.”

“I agree, but that’s free enterprise. I reckon they had to haul ice a long way to get it here.” He look another sip of the dark liquid and rolled his eyes upward, sighing as he did so. “Delicious. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share, sister?”

Lacey wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather die of thirst.”

“Great God Almighty, woman, you are stubborn.”

She smiled without humor. “And that’s precisely the reason I’m going to end up with that choice lot.”

He winked at her and sipped his drink. “Don’t count me out yet, sis, I’m an awfully lucky hombre…or was until I tangled with you.”

“There were other lots you could have claimed,” she hissed at him.

“So could you,” he reminded her.

“So this is not even about the land anymore, it’s a battle of wills.”

He grinned. “If you say so.”

She decided to ignore him. He was the most infuriating man she’d ever had the bad luck to cross paths with; not at all like the gentle, sensitive type of ideal male she envisioned. She simply must have some water. Besides that, she was worried about Precious. “I don’t suppose you’d be enough of a gentleman to hold my place while I get a drink?”

He grinned down at her. “Would you trust me to be a gentleman and do so?”

“Gentleman? Ha! Any gal who would trust you might end up losing her drawers. I know your type.”

“Tsk! Tsk! Such a vulgar comment from a lady.”

Oh, he was maddening. She had the most terrible urge to smack that handsome, grinning face even as he took another sip of his devil’s brew. “You know, you’re almost pretty when you’re mad.”

She snorted again. “Do idiotic remarks like that cause most women to swoon at your feet, Texan?”

“Sometimes,” he conceded.

“Well, this Texas girl isn’t buying it.” She turned around to face the front of the line, deciding to ignore him. The warm April sun beat down on them as the afternoon lengthened and the line seemed to be only inching along. By now, she was not only thirsty, she was in dire need of an outhouse. Behind her, the Texas rascal kept sipping his drink and shaking the ice around so that she could hear it. Finally she decided she could stand it no longer. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she flung the remark over her shoulder and hurried away into the crowd. Lacey had to find an outhouse fast before she soaked her bloomers and humiliated herself in front of the whole world.

Lacey found an outhouse and then a snaggle-toothed man selling water. He wanted a dime for a cup.

“Why don’t you get a gun and mask?” she complained, “that’s highway robbery.”

He gave her a grin like a broken white picket fence. “Maybe so, lady, but it’s the onliest water around, so take it or leave it.”

She took it although it was lukewarm and tasted like an old lake. She thought again with longing of Blackie’s tall, ice-chilled glass. But of course she dare not touch demon rum. The last time she had…she pushed that embarrassing thought from her mind and went to the wagon to check on her cat. Precious lapped up the last of the water from her cup and meowed in complaint. “I know it’s a miserable crowded cage. I’ll take you with me.”

Lacey gathered up Precious and headed back to the claim line which had moved up a few more feet.

“Hey, lady, no line-breakin’,” a gruff man yelled.

She walked up to Blackie who did not acknowledge her. “Tell them, you rogue.”

Blackie shook his head as if bewildered. “Have we met?”

“Oh, you rascal. All right, I’ll say it. I’m with him,” she announced to the crowd.

“Why, sweetie,” he tried to put his arm around her, “What took you so long? I missed you while you were gone.”

She moved very subtly to grind the heel of her high-button shoe into the tender instep of his expensive, dusty boot. “Unhand me, you villain or I will knee you again.”

“For a lady, you never cease to shock and surprise me.” He scowled. “I see you brought the cat.”

At the word “cat”, Lively woke up and barked at the white dust mop.

“Meow!” Precious jumped for a higher, safer position, which just happened to be Blackie’s shoulder, then she went to the top of his head, balancing on his mashed hat.

“Great God Almighty!” Blackie flailed his arms. “Get this critter off me!”

“Woof! Woof!” Lively danced around his feet while the cat arched her back, spat, and hissed.

“Call your dog off and I will. He’s scaring the poor thing. Hey, kitty. Here, Precious.”

Around them, people laughed and tittered. “Wal,” said a man farther back in line, I seen a goat ropin’ and a circus, but never anything this much fun.”

Lacey turned on the man as Blackie struggled to get the enraged cat off his head. “Oh, shut up. Haven’t you ever seen a cat before?”

“Not worn as a hat, Ma’am.”

The line laughed again and Blackie ordered the dog to desist. Reaching up to pull the protesting feline from his mangled hat, he handed her to Lacey. “Great God Almighty, does it never end, Miss? Miss?”

“Lacey Van Schuyler Durango,” she said.

“Ah,” he nodded in recognition. “Of the Durangos, owners of the famous Triple D ranch?”

“My uncle is Trace Durango,” she admitted.

“I think I’ve played cards with one Ace Durango several years back,” Blackie mused.

“My cousin,” she admitted. “Ace is quite a rounder, but he’s married now.”

“Let himself get branded, did he?” Blackie shook his head regretfully. “Won’t happen to me. Anyway, with a million acres of Texas ranch land, sister, what are you doin’ up here?”

“My uncle owns that, I don’t.” She stroked her indignant cat. “Besides, I’m an independent woman who wants to make it on her own. When I get the deed to that choice lot, I’m going to build a newspaper.”

He snorted and sipped his drink. “A woman runnin’ a newspaper?”

“I’ve had experience as a reporter and my uncle has loaned me enough money to get started.”

“Why don’t you do yourself a favor, go back to the ranch, get married, and raise a passel of kids?”

She was outraged. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Give you that lot without a fuss.”

“Great place for a saloon and gambling palace.” He smiled dreamily. “I can see it now: Blackie’s Black Garter.”

“In your dreams, you rogue.” She was so outraged, smoke seemed to come out of her nostrils. A house of demon rum. She might have known. If he only knew the Ladies’ Temperance Association was concentrating its efforts to run demon rum completely out of the Territory. But of course she wouldn’t tell him that yet. First, she must keep him from getting control of that land. The line moved a few feet and Lively moved to lay down next to them, rolled over on his back and began to snore.

Lacey said “That is the most pitiful excuse for a dog I’ve ever seen.”

“You should talk, with a powder puff for a pet.”

Lacey sniffed disdainfully. “Where’d you get a bloodhound, anyway?”

Blackie lit his cigar. “He’s a reject from the state prison at Huntsville.”

“What?”

“He got fired,” Blackie said with a nod. “The Texas Rangers were searchin’ for some escaped prisoners and put Lively on the trail. They tell me he disappeared and when they finally tracked down their missin’ convicts, Lively was curled up with them, sharing their food.”

She couldn’t control her scorn. “I reckon your dog is no judge of character.”

He took a puff of his cigar and grinned. “He’s not as judgmental as you are, sister.”

She made a moue. “Let me guess. You were one of the prisoners.”

“No, but my brother was one of the lawmen.”

She blinked. “You’ve got a brother who’s a lawman?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“You have to ask?”

Blackie knelt and patted the dog’s long ears. “He was just too friendly to hunt people. Lively’s like me; he believes in live and let live. The warden lost a hand of poker to me and he gave me the dog.”

“Poker.” Lacey sniffed. “I might have known.”

It was late now, almost dusk. The pair and their sleepy dog were within a few feet of the front of the line. She could see several men and an army officer sitting at a makeshift desk made from an old door out in front of the shack. The pair moved closer and closer until they were at the front of the line.

One of the scribbling civilians glanced at the sun and then his pocket watch. “It’s late. This Land Office is now officially closed.” He stood up and yelled. “You folks will have to come back tomorrow.”

“This is outrageous,” Lacey shouted, “we’ve been standing here all afternoon.”

“Can’t help that,” the man yawned. “We been sittin’ here registering claims all afternoon. Time for a beer.”

Lacey’s indignation knew no bounds. “Beer? I might have known there were spirits involved somehow. Men always have to have their whiskey.”

The men looked at each other, their eyes lighting up. “Whiskey sounds even better. We’ll open up in the morning.”

“But I can’t stay here all night,” she protested.

“You don’t expect us to work without any light, do you?” growled one of the trio. “Anyway, lady, you ain’t the only one. There’s a long line behind you.”

It was true. She was still protesting when the officials walked away. The rest of the people in line began to drift in all directions. “My word, now what do we do?”

Blackie grinned at her. “You still have that wagon-load of chickens?”

“Yes, I was going to deliver them when I got my claim filed.”

“I don’t reckon the army would miss one or two.” Blackie started to walk away.

“You’d steal the army’s chickens? That’s outrageous.”

“I’m a taxpayer, ain’t I? I paid for some of those chickens. Come on, Lively. You comin’, sister?”

“No,” Lacey said and set her jaw stubbornly. “I’m going to camp right here and hold this place in line.”

“For me, too?” He grinned at her.

“Of course not, you big lummox.” Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she would manage. Precious was squirming in her arms and meowing.

“Your cat’s hungry and gettin’ as grouchy as you are. Reckon I could go build a campfire and roast us some chickens on a stick while you hold the place in line.”

“I said I wasn’t going to hold your place in line.”

He grinned at her. “You hold the place in line and I’ll share my chickens. Is that fair?”

She felt she was losing this battle of wills. Precious meowed, squirmed and tried to get out of her arms. “I don’t know. I don’t like cooperating with you.”

“Okay,” he shrugged, “then go hungry. Come on, Lively.”

The bloodhound got to its feet, shook the dust from its wrinkly brown hide, and ambled slowly after his master.

Lacey watched them go. Most of the people behind her in line had given up and gone off to get something to eat. They’d have to start all over in the morning, but darned if she would. She’d stay here until hell froze over to stake her claim. Lacey slumped down on a rock next to the Land Office shack and put the white Persian on the ground. The cat’s pink ribbon was askew and for the first time Lacey could remember, Precious’ snowy hair was dirty. Lacey was dirty, too, and she didn’t like it. She was so tired, she might have wept, but that would have been a sign of weakness.

Around her, the night had grown dark but the spring air was warm. Ten thousand people moved about, building campfires, setting up tents. Here and there a horse whinnied or a baby cried. In the darkness she could see the glow of a hundred campfires as hardy pioneers began to cook. Across the whole land run territory, she realized suddenly, there were thousands more people than there was available land. Some of those would go home disappointed, their dreams of a free farm and a fresh start shattered. Well, she wasn’t going to be one of them. She wished she had another drink of water and something to eat. She thought she smelled chicken frying and it made her mouth water.

After a while, Blackie and Lively came back, the dog carrying the biggest bone Lacey had ever seen. It would have been wonderful in a pot of stew, she thought with envy. Precious arched her back and spat at the dog, but the dog, having to decide between the cat and the bone, flopped down on the dirt and enjoyed his bone. Blackie himself had another cold drink in his hand and a gold toothpick in his mouth. The diamond ring on his right pinkie finger flashed in the light as he gestured. “My, that was mighty tasty.”

“Stolen chicken probably does taste good to a thief.” She kept her voice haughty.

“Yeah, it did.” He was incorrigible; without shame. “I also took the wagon over to the army camp and let them unload it so we can return it tomorrow.”

“We? I don’t intend to give you a ride back.”

“Well, I intend to give you one, so that makes me a nicer person than you, right?”

She must remember that arguing with a scoundrel was a waste of time and reasoning. Her belly growled so loudly, that even the gambler must have heard it.

“Sister, I’ll hold your place in line if you want to go get something to eat or I’ve got some leftovers. You want I should bring you some?”

“I don’t need you to do me any favors. Besides, I don’t trust you.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I was tryin’ to be a gentleman.”

“Ha! You don’t know what a gentleman is.”

“I wouldn’t talk about etiquette when the first time I saw you, your skirt was above your head and your underpants was showin’.”

Some passing soldiers looked at her curiously and grinned before walking on. “Oh, you kid!” one of them yelled and another whistled.

“My word, can’t you lower your voice?” Lacey buried her red face in her hands. Lively lay down next to her and his long tail thumped as he laid the bone across her foot.

“It seems Lively’s willin’ to share with you.”

Without thinking, she reached out to pet the dog. “Nice dog,” she whispered, “how could you take up with such a scoundrel?”

Her cat eyed the dog suspiciously and kept Lacey between them. Lacey’s tummy rumbled again.

“Hey,” Blackie squatted down, “can I give some of this chicken to your cat? She’s hungry.”

Lacey eyed the chicken he held out. “I—I reckon that’s all right.”

He laid it on a rock and Precious pounced on it. Lacey licked her lips and watched the cat eat.

“Well,” Blackie said, “I’ll go see if I can get some hay and water for the horse and find some amusement. Come on, Lively.” He turned to walk away.

Lively didn’t move. With a sigh, the dog curled up next to Lacey.

“You’re stealing my dog,” Blackie said.

“I didn’t do anything. He just wants to stay with me.”

“So let him.” Blackie sauntered off.

“I won’t hold your place in line!” She yelled.

He turned and winked at her. “Sure you will, sister.” Then he strolled toward the busiest part of town.

Lacey glared after his broad back as he walked off down the street. The dog was asleep. She looked at the cat again. Could she? She who was so straitlaced and persnickety? “Precious, I hate to do this, but manners call for sharing.”

Gingerly, she pulled a roasted chicken leg out of the pile in front of the cat and the cat turned annoyed yellow eyes her direction.

“Now, Precious, don’t be selfish.” Lacey took a deep breath and began to wolf down the chicken. She almost fought the cat for the last piece. She was already cramped and weary from sitting in the dirt, but she wasn’t about to lose her place in line. From somewhere, she heard a tinny piano banging away and a woman’s coarse laughter. No doubt, Blackie O’Neal had just said something amusing. No telling where he’d end up tonight, probably in some whore’s bed. Maybe he’d be so drunk, he’d oversleep in the morning and she’d get her claim filed with no protest. She could only hope.

Unfortunately, as dawn broke and the settlement began stirring, Blackie returned. She awoke with a start to find him standing by her, blinking as if the bright light hurt his eyes. He carried his hat full of water. “Want a drink?”

“Out of your hat?” She shuddered.

“It’s cold.”

She knew it was a sign of weakness, but she was so thirsty. “Well, maybe just a sip.” She put her face in it and gulped loudly.

“You sound just like the horse did when he drank.”

She made a face and pulled back. “The horse drank out of this hat?”

“Well, he left you some.”

“Eck.” She made a face and wiped her mouth as he offered the remainder, first to his dog, then to the cat.

Now Blackie slumped down on a rock and groaned. “I shouldn’t have played cards all night.”

She had no sympathy for the wastrel. “My uncle always said ‘If you can’t run with the big dogs, you’d best stay on the porch.’”

“Your uncle was right.”

Lacey scratched her neck. No doubt Lively had fleas. What had she come to? Stealing food from her cat, drinking after a horse, and getting fleas from a worthless dog? Her aunt Cimarron would never believe this because Lacey always liked everything so pristine and perfect. She was cross and sore as she stood up and tried to brush the dust off her skirt. She really needed to find the outhouse again, but the soldiers were opening the little land office and she wasn’t about to leave. Instead, she stood on one foot and then the other.

“Careful, sister,” Blackie warned, “you’ll soak your drawers.”

“Don’t be crude. I’ll not leave this line. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He grinned back at her. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The line was forming again behind them as the officials set up the makeshift table.

“Next?” The official said.

Lacey rushed forward. “I wish to claim lot number three in the nameless township five miles south of here.”

“Me, too,” Blackie stepped up beside her.

“All right.” The old man began writing. “And that’s Mr. and Mrs.—?”

“We’re not together,” Lacey snapped.

The old man looked up and chewed on the tip of his pencil. “I see. That presents a problem.”

“I drove in my stake first,” Lacey said.

“No, she didn’t,” Blackie countered. “She arrived seconds after I did. Clearly, I was there first.”

“Liar. You were not.” Lacey said.

The two men at the table looked at each other. “One of you a sooner?”

“I beg your pardon?” Lacey said.

“I mean, did one of you break the rules and come in before the official time for the land run to begin?”

“Certainly not!” Lacey snapped, “I never break rules.”

They turned their inquiring gazes toward the gambler. He grinned back at them. “Rules were made to be broken, gentlemen, but not this time. I’m not guilty. I rode a good, fast horse.”

“In that case,” the old man sighed, “this is another one of those contested cases. We’ve had a bunch. Government will have to decide who actually gets the lot. Takes about six months, maybe a year.”

Lacey groaned aloud. “I was going to start building my newspaper office on that land this very day.”

The official shook his head. “Can’t do that, Miss, until the courts decide who owns it. Now if one of you would like to buy the other’s claim out—”

“Not a chance,” Lacey snapped, “but if the rascal here would like to sell—”

“Not a snowflake’s chance in hell, sister,” Blackie growled, “that’s too good a spot for a saloon.”

“A saloon?” Lacey sniffed. “There won’t be any saloons once the Temperance Association dries up this Territory.”

A groan went up from all the men behind her.

The men at the table looked at each other and sighed. “You two fill out these papers and you’ll be notified when it finally comes up for review.”

Lacey felt like weeping in frustration, but of course her emotions were always carefully controlled. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“That ain’t our problem, Ma’am. Next.” He gestured to the man behind her.

There seemed to be nothing else to do but fill out the papers, turn them in, and walk away.

“You stubborn rascal,” Lacey seethed, “I was clearly on that land first.”

“You think just because you’re a woman, I’m supposed to roll over and let you have it? You want it both ways, sister; equal rights when it’s handy and special treatment for women when it serves your purpose.”

“You’re outrageous, you know that? Let me find a—a necessary, and then let’s get out of here.”

He lit a cigar. “So you’re gonna share your wagon?”

“Do I have a choice?” She glared up at him. He had the broadest shoulders and a shadow of beard on his rugged face.

“Of course not. I was just bein’ polite. I’ll take the animals to the wagon and we’ll wait for you there.”

She paused, eyed him suspiciously. “Will you wait?”

He shrugged. “Might as well. Don’t see no advantage in leavin’ you behind now that the land is tied up by law.”

She went to find an outhouse, then returned through the bustling crowds, half expecting to see the wagon gone, but he leaned against it, smoking a cigar. The cat and dog seemed to have settled their differences because both stared at her from the back of the wagon.

“Here,” he said, “let me help you up.”

“You touch me and I’ll scream I’m being molested and the soldiers will come running.”

“Fine, sister, then get yourself up here. I’ll drive.”

“Must I remind you that I am responsible for this wagon? I’ll drive.” She struggled to get up into the seat. It was difficult with her long skirts.

Blackie simply ignored her, climbed up on his side and took the reins. “No woman drives when I’m aboard.”

“You are outrageous,” Lacey seethed.

“I’m a Texan, what do you expect? Didn’t your mama tell you ‘You can always tell a Texan, but you can’t tell ’em much?’”

“My parents are dead, I was raised by my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh, sorry. My Ma died, too. Pa had it tough feedin’ a passel of kids after he lost a leg in the war.”

“The war?”

“Yep, one of Colonel Terry’s Texas Rangers.”

Horror swept over her. “A Rebel? Your family were sympathizers in the Rebellion?”

“No, sister, he was a Southern patriot in the War of Yankee Aggression.” Shock gradually swept across his handsome features. “Don’t tell me you’re a damnyankee?”

She drew herself up proudly. “The Durangos were supporters of old Sam Houston when he tried to keep Texas in the Union.”

He snorted. “I should have known.” Blackie snapped the little whip at the horse as he turned the rig back south. “Get comfortable, Miss Durango, five miles is a long way.” Under his breath, he muttered, “A damnyankee.”

“I am not a damned Yankee, I am a true Texan whose family was smart enough to know that leaving the Union was poor judgment. I believe the South’s defeat proved my point.”

He heaved a sigh. “Do you always have to be right?”

“Only when I am.”

They drove the next three miles in hostile silence.

Finally Blackie seemed unable to control his curiosity. “What’s a woman doin’ in a land rush alone anyway?”

“I’m not alone.” She scooted as far to her side of the seat as she could. “My assistant, Isaac, is waiting for me back at the station. Hopefully, he’s gotten our equipment unloaded so we can get out the first issue of the Crusader.”

“The Crusader? Sounds like every man’s nightmare.”

“For men like you, it probably is,” she sniffed disdainfully. “With a crusading newspaper to lead them, the Ladies’ Temperance Association will build a perfect town with no sin allowed.”

“And no fun, either. I’m beginnin’ to wish,” he thought aloud as he stared at the road ahead, “that you had fallen under that train.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” She smiled without mirth, “It’s too bad that your horse didn’t land on you when it stumbled.”

“I think we understand each other, sister.” He looked straight ahead as he drove.

“I think we do.”

And so the battle was joined and each vowed silently not to give an inch. It was no trick too dirty as two Texans each schemed how to bring the other down.