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

Lark was aware that the big Texan scooped her up as she fell. Closing her eyes, she wished hard to die on the spot as she heard concerned voices around her.

“What happened to the lady?”

“Maybe her corset’s too tight.”

“It might be the heat.”

A deep male voice she recognized said, “Maybe the lady was just swept away at meeting the sheriff.”

The sheriff? She opened one eye and thought about slamming her fist into his nose. No, that wouldn’t be smart, he’d probably bleed all over the front of her dress. As far as a corset, she wasn’t even wearing one. That, of course, would scandalize her more ladylike sister.

Still, Larado appeared genuinely concerned as he carried her into the hotel, the whole crowd following along behind. Evidently, this was such a sleepy town, even a woman fainting was big excitement.

His chest felt hard and warm against her face. His shirt smelled like tobacco, sunlight, and man smell. She wanted to snuggle even closer in those big arms.

Lark Durango, are you loco? she thought. This is the same rascal who fled like a scalded cat from the bank holdup and left you to take the blame.

She felt him place her on a piece of furniture and she opened her eyes. She half reclined on an ornate scarlet horsehair settee in the hotel lobby. Curious faces gathered around.

The big man stared down at her, almost seeming to be concerned. “Somebody get the lady a glass of water,” he ordered, “and maybe I’d better loosen her stays.”

That brought her sitting up straight with a start. “I’m just fine now.” How like that scoundrel to want to molest her. Lark wasn’t sure whether she was worried about him putting his big hands on her body, or exposing to the world that she wore no corset. She took a deep breath, getting ready to shout to the world that this was a wanted man, not a lawman. Why, he was so rotten, he’d steal the milk out of a baby calf’s bucket.

“Are you all right, señorita?” A young Mexican man with a bright smile handed Larado a tin cup of water, thrusting it at her awkwardly.

Puzzled, Lark took the cup. Funny, Larado didn’t appear to recognize her. Had she made so little an impression, then? That infuriated her. Then she remembered that she was masquerading as her twin sister. “I’m fine—just the heat. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lacey Van Schuyler.”

“Lacey?” he asked. “That’s a nice name.”

I’m Lark, you Stetson-wearing idiot! Remember leaving me hanging on to a pair of rearing horses while you and your low-down buddy robbed the bank? But of course she didn’t say that. “Yes, my name is Lacey, and I’ve got a twin sister named Lark.”

She waited for him to react, but he only nodded as he knelt beside the settee. “Funny, I’m one of twins too. Course, we don’t claim the family black sheep. He’s kind of a rascal.”

Kind of? That was an understatement of the year. Lawrence? Larado? Could there possibly be two Texans this good-looking? Lark, are you out of your mind? You knowwho this scoundrel is. There might be a lot of rascals in Texas, but surely there couldn’t be two like this one.

The Mexican grinned and nodded toward his buddy. “Oh, this is the sheriff, the one Bill wrote you about. Sheriff Witherspoon, didn’t you say howdy to the lady?”

“Bill did what?” Lawrence? Larado? took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a red bandana.

The young man shuffled his boots. “Uh, maybe you’d better ask him about that, sí?”

The old man with the missing tooth limped forward. “We was planning you a surprise, Larry.”

The tall man scowled. “That do seem like a bit more than a surprise. Paco, you in on this?”

The young Mexican nodded. “Sí, so is half the town. There’s no young women here and we wanted you to be happy and stay.”

The sheriff’s face turned as white as a catfish’s belly.

“So you had no idea about the advertisement?” Lark asked.

“Advertisement?” Larado—or Lawrence—or whatever the hell his name was, blinked. His rugged face stayed white under the shock of black hair as if he’d been bitten by a rattlesnake. “What advertisement?”

“Uh,” mumbled young Paco, “I think the sheriff ought to take the lady up to her room and we’ll talk about all this later.”

“You’re damned right we will, deputy,” the sheriff growled. Then he blushed and seemed flustered. “Excuse me, ladies, for cussin’ in front of you.”

Lark blinked. This almost bashful man was a long way from the irrepressible rascal who slapped women on the bottom and called them “sweetie.” Could there really be a twin brother after all? It didn’t seem likely, but on the other hand, she wasn’t sure the saddle bum was smart enough to pull the same kind of trick she was pulling.

In the silence, Paco made a sweeping bow. “In case nobody’s said it, welcome to Rusty Spur, señorita.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t feel very welcome. All the other faces were smiling at her, but the sheriff didn’t smile. He looked like he had just put his boot in a bear trap and didn’t know how to get out. Was getting married to her that horrifying to him? Was this the unmitigated rascal who had left her holding his horse while he robbed a bank?

So the sheriff hadn’t sent for her. And by the look of his stricken face, he had no intention of getting married. How humiliating.

“I—I just came to get acquainted.” She gulped.

The crowd around them buzzed like flies on a sugar bun.

“Well, now, Larry.” Bill took out a bandana and wiped his wrinkled face. “We was all in on it. It was just a little ad in the mail-order bride section.”

“What?” Larado croaked. “Miss,” he turned to Lark, “I reckon you’ve been brought here under false pretenses.”

“Obviously.” Lark resisted the urge to pour the rest of the cup of water on him. She gave Larado a steely glaze. “You look vaguely familiar to me, Sheriff.”

He shook his head as the color began to return to his rugged face. “I don’t reckon we’ve ever met, ma’am. I know I’d remember such a purty girl. Now, I’ve got a twin brother who’s kind of a rascal—Larado. Maybe you crossed his path?”

Could it be? Well, anything was possible. “Isn’t that a coincidence?” She gulped. “I too have a twin. Her name is Lark.”

Larado? Lawrence? still stared into her face. Was this not the rascal who had left her to deal with the law while he fled the robbery?

A motherly, plump lady of maybe fifty pushed through the crowd. “For heaven’s sake, everyone should stop gawkin’ like they never seen a lady before.” She paused, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m Mildred Bottoms, proprietor of this, the best hotel in Rusty Spur.”

“It’s the only hotel in Rusty Spur,” a small, thin boy said.

“Hush, up, Jimmy.” The gray-haired woman patted him on the head.

“Pleased to meet you,” Lark said. “I’m Lacey Van Schuyler.”

The older woman looked sympathetic. “Reckon the boys have made a joke, but they meant well. Now let’s get you up to your room and give you a chance to rest and clean up.”

She’d vote for that. It would give her a chance to figure all these unexpected surprises out. “I really would like to rest a little.”

“We don’t get many young ladies out here.” The plump woman pushed a wisp of gray hair back in her bun. “I think in honor of your arrival, Miss Van Schuyler, we’ll arrange a barn dance tonight.”

A chorus of agreement ran through the crowd.

Lark started to get to her feet, but the sheriff protested. “You may be a little dizzy yet, miss. I’ll carry you up to your room.”

“You needn’t bother—” she began. “I think my legs still work.” She stood up, a little dizzy, and took an uncertain step.

“I reckon you need some help, miss.” Lawrence? Larado? scooped her up in his big arms and started toward the stairs with long strides, followed by the crowd.

“Really, I think I can manage fine,” she protested, but the big man kept walking. He made her feel tiny in his embrace.

“Don’t want anything to happen to you, Miss Van Schuyler,” he said in a resolute voice. “You might fall down the stairs or something.”

“What?”

“You heard me, ma’am.” He kept walking with the crowd following along behind.

Was that a threat? If he was Larado, she seemed to be the only one who knew his secret. He might do her in just to keep her quiet. But he had such a handsome face, and she fit into his big arms like she belonged there. He kicked open the door of a room and carried her in, dumping her on the bed. “There you are, ma’am.”

The crowd had followed along behind and were gathered around, staring in open curiosity.

“Heavens,” scolded Mrs. Bottoms. “Everybody clear out and let the lady rest up some. Lawrence, you’ll come pick up the lady for the barn dance tonight?”

He hesitated, fidgeting like he had ants down his long handles. “Well, somebody’s got to patrol the town. Maybe Paco could pick her up. There’s lots of fellas that’ll be willin’ to dance with her.”

“Hear! Hear!” yelled several of the men in the crowd.

The young Mexican grinned. “I’d be mucho pleased to, señorita.”

Well, maybe the sheriff wasn’t Larado. She couldn’t imagine the man she’d known passing up a chance at dancing and some fun. This one was worried about patrolling the town. He looked as serious as a hanging judge.

“That will be fine,” Lark said and breathed easier. “What time will the dance start?”

“Eight o’clock,” Mrs. Bottoms announced. “That gives the ladies time to whip up some refreshments. Now everyone clear out.”

Larado? Lawrence? touched the brim of his hat with two fingers. “Good day to you, Miss Lacey. Hope you enjoy your visit to Rusty Spur.” He seemed sincere enough.

The whole crowd left slowly and reluctantly, but Larado or Lawrence or whoever he was cleared out like his pants were on fire. Lark was left sitting on the bed in disarray trying to figure this mess out. If this sheriff was Larado, he certainly didn’t have the easy charm that she remembered. This man acted almost awkward around women. Could Larado really have a twin brother?

She groaned aloud. What kind of mess had she made? True, she was in a sleepy, remote settlement where she might be safe enough, but now she was going to have to continue to masquerade as her sister, Lacey—that perfect and prissy lady. Lark wasn’t sure she could do that, but until she could figure out what to do next, she’d have to keep up the masquerade. She didn’t even have enough money to catch the weekly stage.

Lark got up, went to the window, and stared out. She saw the sheriff crossing the street with long strides, maybe heading to his office. My! He had wide shoulders.

Don’t even think about him, Lark. He surely isn’t interested in you. That hurt her pride a little. The street below her was dusty and quiet. A lone bay horse stood tied to a hitching rail down by the general store and a hound dog lay asleep in the middle of the dirt street. This really was an isolated place, Lark thought as she leaned out for a better look. A feed store, a church, a blacksmith shop, four saloons, but three of them looked to be boarded up. Why, there didn’t even appear to be a bank in Rusty Spur.

She had an urge to grab her bag, slip out the back door, and leave. Leave, how? The stage was gone. Yet she had always run when faced with an bad situation, and she didn’t see why she should change now. Well, land’s sake, she was stuck in Rusty Spur for at least a week. Lark wondered if the upright Lawrence had any idea his brother was an outlaw and a bank robber. Maybe that was what had driven him into law enforcement, trying to clean up the family name from the shame his rascal brother had heaped on it.

The little boy called Jimmy brought her a pitcher of water. He was a thin child with big, dark eyes. “Have you ridden a train? I like trains.”

“Yes, I have.” She smiled at him.

“Mrs. Bottoms said this was so you could wash up.”

Lark loved children. “Are you Mrs. Bottoms’s grandson?”

He shook his head. “Nope. My folks died of the typhoid last year. She took me in.” He looked up at her curiously. “You gonna marry our sheriff?”

She felt herself flush and shook her head. “I don’t think so, it’s all just been a big mistake.”

“Oh.” He looked disappointed. “We all like the sheriff. I thought if he got married, he’d adopt me.”

“I’m sure he’d be pleased to have a fine son like you, Jimmy, but maybe not yet.” She patted his shoulder. “Now you’d better run along and help Mrs. Bottoms get ready.”

He looked at her gravely, nodded, and left.

Such a sweet little boy. Someday she hoped to have one just like him. Lark filled her washbowl and rinsed off the west Texas dust. So the sheriff wasn’t even going to bother coming t o the barn dance? If he’d been Larado, no doubt he’d have wanted a chance to talk to her and beg her not to tell what she knew, but he hadn’t bothered. Maybe he was indeed a straight-shooting, honest lawman. Lark sighed. Somehow, she had preferred the charming rascal.

“Lark, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for even thinking that,” she scolded herself aloud. What was it women found so intriguing about bad boys? She reminded herself again that Larado had gotten her in big trouble and then run like a jackrabbit. If she ever saw him again, she intended to see if she could get him thrown so far back in jail, the deputy would have to ship daylight to him.

She didn’t really want to go to the barn dance and face all the curious stares. Word had probably already spread about what the sheriff’s pals had done, and everyone would feel sorry for her—the jilted mail-order bride. That smarted and hurt her pride a little. Okay, she’d go anyway and hold her head high. Maybe everyone would think she’d turned him down.

She tried to decide what to wear. She really only owned two good dresses besides the severe dark blue traveling outfit she wore—she preferred men’s pants and cowboy boots. She laid out the yellow dress and then smoothed out her blue and white checked gingham with the lace around the low-cut neck. It showed the curves of her breasts. She’d wear that one. She combed her long dark hair and pulled it back with a blue ribbon. Looking in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks and sucked her lips until they were red. Finally she stuck a lilac sachet between her breasts. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

Outside, the sun was setting, red as blood, and a workman was going down the street, lighting the few oil street lamps. With the window open, she heard laughter and an off-key piano drifting from the one saloon. Yes, indeed, it was a sleepy town. That suited her just fine. She was safe from being arrested here.

A knock at the door. “Dear?” Mrs. Bottoms’s voice. “You about ready? Paco’s here.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She grabbed a blue shawl from her valise and went out into the hall.

“My, don’t you look purty?” the old lady said. “You’re gonna turn a few heads tonight. You know, we don’t really have any young single women in these parts. After seein’ you, honey, I reckon some more of those cowboys will be puttin’ ads in mail-order bride papers.”

Lark felt her face burn. “It wasn’t as if I didn’t have other offers,” she apologized.

“I don’t doubt that, honey, but a man with a badge and a gun sure can take a lady’s eye. I know. My Sam was a marshal over in Abilene. I came here for peace and quiet after he was killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” They went down the stairs.

“I’m okay with it now, but I’ve got my memories. That’s why I think so much of our new sheriff. Lawrence Witherspoon is cut from the same cloth as my Sam.”

“You think so?”

“I’m a pretty good judge of people,” the plump woman said. “You know, you wouldn’t believe it now, but until Lawrence came in and put on that badge, this was a wild, wide-open town.”

“Rusty Spur? I heard that, but I didn’t believe it.”

“Heavens, yes.” Mrs. Bottoms nodded. “Robbers came through here headed for Mexico to hide out—rustlers stealin’ herds off some of these isolated ranches. Our sheriff don’t use his gun, but folks respect him. And I can tell you, I think he could outdraw some of these thugs if he had to. They say he used to be a Texas Ranger.”

Well, the man must be Larado’s twin brother, because she couldn’t imagine Larado doing anything except hanging out in saloons, slapping women on the bottom, and inviting himself up to their beds. “How long’s he been here?”

“Lawrence? Just a little while. Hear he came from El Paso, and you know how tough El Paso is,” Mrs. Bottoms said.

“He ever say anything before about a twin brother?” Lark asked.

The old lady’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure. Maybe. Yes, I think so.”

Lark drew a sigh of relief. Maybe she could stop worrying about the scoundrel of a brother.

Paco stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking all clean with his hair wet from combing. He wore a deputy’s badge on his western shirt. Paco held his hat in his hand and looked uneasy, standing on one foot and then the other. Now his dark eyes lit up as he saw her. “Very beautiful. Sí, señorita. I’m honored to drive you to the barn dance.”

“And me too, and Jimmy,” the older lady reminded him.

He bowed low. “Of course, señora, you too. I do hope you bring those muy bueno sand plum cobblers you make?”

She laughed. “Of course. Get the basket out of the kitchen. Did the men get that beef on the spit?”

He nodded. “Sí, señora. Even now, it is being barbecued to a crisp brown.” He went into the back and returned with a basket. “Oh, we didn’t give the señorita a chance to shine with her cooking.”

“Uh, maybe next time.” Lark gulped. Her aunt Cimarron said Lark couldn’t cook even a biscuit so a dog would eat it. Well, she wouldn’t stay long, so no one here would ever know that. As soon as she felt the trail had grown cold, Lark would leave. Where she would go next, she couldn’t be sure. Tears came to her eyes as she walked out to the buckboard. She had a sudden wave of homesickness. At least she was in Texas. You could take a gal out of Texas, but you couldn’t take Texas out of the girl.

Paco helped everyone up in into the buckboard, Lark seated next to him, then climbed up and snapped the reins at the bay horse. “Did you like our sheriff?”

Lark sputtered with embarrassment. “I—I don’t know—I just barely met him.”

“Paco,” Mrs. Bottoms scolded, “what a question! You’re embarrassin’ the lady.”

Jimmy piped up. “I think he liked her. Are they gonna get married?”

“Jimmy!” the old lady scolded.

Lark felt the blood rush to her face, but she had to ask. “Why—what makes you think he liked me?”

Paco chuckled. “Sheriff Witherspoon don’t say much, but he was smiling when he left the hotel. He’s a good sheriff, no, Señora Bottoms?”

“One of the best,” the lady declared as they rode along. “Varmints sure back down from him when he gives them that squinty-eyed glare and almost whispers for them to throw down their guns.”

“Hmm.” Lark was impressed.

“Besides, señorita,” Paco said, “everyone says that he used to be a Texas Ranger down around El Paso.”

Lark blinked. “Then what’s he doing out in a sleepy place like Rusty Spur?”

Paco lowered his voice. “They say he killed a man by mistake and it got to him. Besides, he’s got a brother that brought shame to to the family.”

“You can say that again,” Lark said.

“What?” asked Mrs. Bottoms.

“Nothing,” said Lark. A mysterious ex–Texas Ranger. It was romantic and thrilling. Maybe Lawrence Witherspoon could be as interesting as his saddle-tramp brother. “I notice the town has no bank?”

“Well,” Mrs. Bottoms said somewhat defensively, “ours closed ’cause it had been robbed so much. But with the new sheriff and the railroad comin’ in sometime this summer, the town’ll grow, and I reckon we’ll get one. They won’t be afraid to open up here with a tough sheriff like we got to protect the money.”

He’s sure different from his brother, Lark thought. Larado would rob the bank, but Lawrence would protect it. She began to like Lawrence, even if he wasn’t as charming.

When the buckboard pulled up in front of the big red barn, it looked like most of the county must have heard about the dance. There were horses, wagons, and buggies everywhere, and the barn glowed with lantern light. From inside, Lark heard fiddle music drifting on the warm May air.

Paco assisted Lark from the buggy.

“Heavens,” declared the hotel owner as Paco helped her down, “looks like half the county has come to our wingding.”

The more people, the better chance someone might have seen a wanted poster, Lark thought, but she’d just have to take that chance. After all, this was a very isolated area.

Cowboys rushed forward to meet her, stumbling over their feet in embarrassment, pulling off their Stetsons. “Howdy, ma’am, so you’re the mail-order-bride lady.”

“That’s my fault and Bill’s, señores.” Paco looked embarrassed. “The sheriff didn’t even know she was coming.”

She blushed furiously as the cowboys gathered around. “Then that means she ain’t really spoke fer. I’d be much obliged if you’d save me a dance, miss.”

She had never felt so popular. “Of course I’ll try to save each and every one of you a dance,” she said graciously.

They all beamed, and one of them took the basket from Mrs. Bottoms. “What you got in here, ma’am?”

“Pies and such.”

Even in the moonlight, Lark could see the faces light up. “Mm. It’s been a while since we’ve eat anything good. I’ll bet the young lady is a good cook too.”

“Actually, I’m a terrible cook,” Lark answered.

“And she’s modest, too,” said one of the cowboys. The others nodded. “That’s a good trait in a woman.”

She had spoken the truth, and they didn’t believe her. Well, her conscience was clear, in case the cowboys ever ate any of her cooking. She didn’t say that she could hold her own in any type of riding, shooting, or ranch work. Those were not things cowboys liked to be outdone in.

The ranch hands trailed the ladies like hungry pups as they walked toward the barn.

One of them whispered, “She’s real purty, ain’t she? You reckon any hombres got a chance?”

“The sheriff must be loco if he don’t grab this bit of calico up.”

Lark didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the sheriff was going to be patrolling the town rather than coming to the dance. The inside of the big barn was aglow with lanterns. It smelled of fresh hay and roasting beef that turned on a spit outside. Bales of straw were scattered about so people could sit down. Over to one side, a small band of settlers sawed away on fiddles or plucked guitar strings…. Chicken in the bread pan, chicken in the dough, swing your partners and do-si-do….

Ladies gathered in groups to visit while the men traded stories, slapping their knees when someone told a good joke. Children ran through the crowd, yelling and playing. The whole scene made Lark homesick for her uncle Trace Durango’s ranch, the Triple D.

The music stopped suddenly, and an old rancher climbed up on a box. “All right, folks, choose your partners for the Virginia reel, and don’t mob that new young lady. Since there ain’t enough ladies to go around, some of you will have to be heifers.”

A groan went up from the young cowboys, but half a dozen men stood patiently while someone tied a red bandana around their arms to signify they would dance the lady’s part for a while. In the meantime, Lark was surrounded by a crowd of bashful young cowboys. “Miss, will you be my partner?”

“Wait your turn, Jethro,” another scolded.

“What do you mean, Al? I saw her first.”

“No, you didn’t. I saw her the minute she stepped off the stage.”

There was lots of pushing and shoving, vying for her attention. “Me, Miss Van Schuyler.”

“No, me. I asked her when she got out of the buggy.”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” She raised her voice and made a soothing gesture. “I’ll dance with all of you, just wait your turn.”

Mildred Bottoms, at her elbow, said in an undertone, “Are you sure you want to do that, my dear? There must be a couple of dozen of them green young fellas.”

“If I don’t, there may be a riot,” Lark said.

“Ain’t it nice to be so popular, though?” Mrs. Bottoms smiled.

Except with the sheriff, Lark thought. He didn’t seem even interested in her at all. That annoyed her no end. His rascal of a brother would have slapped her on the bottom and called her “sweetie.”

It seemed the cowboys were drawing straws. One let out a yell. “I got it! I get to dance with her first!” He pushed forward, grinning. His face was shiny with scrubbing, and his longish hair was slicked down with water. “Allow me, ma’am.” He bowed to her and offered her his arm.

She took it with a smile. “I’d be pleased to, cowboy.”

“You kin call me Buck, miss.”

Buck danced with more enthusiasm than skill, but she managed to keep her small slippers out from under his cowboy boots. When they finished that dance, another cowboy—this one smelling of rose water hair tonic—grabbed her and whirled her out on the rough board floor. After that, there was another and another.

Paco finally asked her to dance, and she accepted gratefully. “I swear I’m going to regret promising to dance with them all, but I’ll do my best.”

The young Mexican deputy grinned at her. “Now you can see why I sent for you. Everyone’s afraid that if the sheriff don’t find a woman, he won’t stay here, and t he town needs him.”

“Doesn’t appear to me he’s much interested,” Lark said as they moved to line up for the next square dance.

“Oh, he’s just shy and takes his job serious, sí?”

“Well, he does seem conscientious,” she admitted grudgingly. There was a strength and integrity about him that Lark liked.

After an hour, someone yelled that the meat was ready, and the little band quit playing. The ladies began serving out of big pans of cornbread, beans, and cole slaw. There were pies, cakes, cookies, and more barbecued beef than the whole town could eat. Lark hadn’t realized she was so hungry. The friendly ranchers’ wives kept refilling her plate and her lemonade cup over her halfhearted protests.

They were just finishing up, and the band had taken their positions to play again, when there was a commotion at the door. Everyone craned their necks to see what was happening. People began to step away as a motley group of hombres came through the door. They were a rough-looking bunch, Lark thought with alarm.

Mrs. Bottoms nudged her. “Heavens, some of that saloon crowd and railroad workers.”

The leader needed a shave and a bath, Lark thought as he swaggered across the floor, followed by his friends.

Paco took a deep breath. “Holy mother of God, I better go get the sheriff.” With that, he slipped out a side door.

The bad hombre strolled across the floor and stopped in front of Lark. He had an iron railroad spike stuck in his belt. The long heavy spike would make a good weapon. “So you’re the new pretty they’re gossipin’ about in town? I’m Otto. Come on, honey, let’s have us a dance.”

Lark hesitated. Oh my, what am I going to do now?