Pioneer Passion (21 page)

“Well, son,” questioning Guy with his eyes,
“since you’re not going to marry her, I’m afraid your mother and I
will have to straighten this mess out by ourselves.” Guy flinched.
He hit a nerve. His father should realize by now that the more the
old man tried to force his ideas on him, the more pigheaded he
would get.

“Dear,” his mother interrupted, her eyes
pleading with his father. “This has to be Guy’s decision. Haven’t
you learned by past experiences that our boy cannot be cornered? We
must have enough faith in Guy to know he’d come around and do the
right thing, but it has to be his idea.” His father poured himself
and Guy a drink, saluting him, saying, “I think the best solution
for all concerned is for Rusty to stay here while you return to
your ranch. If she is with child, well, we… we’ll raise it.” He
smiled at his mother and she nodded. “If, she is not, well, she’s a
smart girl who needs a proper education. We’re willing to send her
to finishing school. I’m sure she can find a nice man to marry her
someday.”

Without a word, Guy slapped his hat on his
head and left recalling when he had refused to marry the kid. He
had watched her eyes take on a darker shade as her jaw set firmly.
Her remark about her not marrying him either shouldn’t have
bothered him. It did, her sarcastic words hit a sore spot.

Hal turned and smiled at Clair. “I think our
son doesn’t realize that he’s smitten with the girl.”

Clair returned his smile; pleased her husband
had been wiser than their son. She was worn out after the scene she
had just witnessed, but the headache powder did help to reduce the
pain in her forehead to a dull but persistent stitch on her right
temple. She would have opted to forget the evening dinner, but she
had to be the fender between her sons.

The air was thick at the table making Rusty
wish the floor would open up and swallow her; she felt everyone
knew what happened. She glanced at Guy, who looked as if he could
spit, nails. He also displayed a dark bruise around his right eye.
Kyle, with a red, swollen nose, eyed her sheepishly. Both brothers’
knuckles were raw and Rusty prayed that their cuts and bruises hurt
them as much as her aching heart. She doubted it. And, bless Skye,
the girl tried to lighten the atmosphere by chattering non-stop
about her party, oblivious to what had happened. Claire nodded
occasionally, sighing loudly, trying not to hear her daughter’s
prattle. Hal looked as angry as Guy, his eyes glancing from one
family member to another.

Rusty gripped her fork and had to force
herself to keep from jumping up and screaming that this problem was
between her and Guy and not the concern of others. Why was the
whole darned family involved anyway? She wanted to scream her
thoughts aloud. Why did she feel as if she was one of the Strong
children ready to be punished? Now she learned what it was like to
have a family that loved her. What she had felt for Guy was
beautiful, but now she felt dirty. Wishing she could get up and
leave and be miles away from their glances, she continued to sit
mute and stare into her cold meal.

The dishes were cleared, though she believed
everyone, but Skye, had left the table with an empty stomach since
no one had touched their food. Skye said Robert would be calling
soon and the young woman left with her skirt rustling. Hal cleared
his throat and asked her and Claire to join him in the parlor. Kyle
grunted guiltily and nodded. Rusty swallowed hard, as a trickle of
sweat ran down her spine, afraid of what was coming.

While his parents and the kid had headed to
the parlor, Guy left in a huff after giving his family a disgusted
shrug. He went to the barn, saddled his horse and left the ranch.
He didn’t want to be around when his father confronted Rusty with
the news. She may not want what his father had in his mind, but she
may have met her match in Hal. He didn’t put it past the old man to
lock the girl in her room if need be.

Damn! What a mess. His father’s statement
about Rusty finding another didn’t sit right with him; he couldn’t
see Rusty in anyone else’s arms. But who was he to protest? He
didn’t want to marry her, did he? Guy swallowed the gin and
grunted; it tasted bitter. All he wanted to do was make love to her
and get her out of his system. But what he had managed to do was
get the green-eyed beauty deeper into his soul. Well, she gave
herself willingly and never asked for anything from him. Or did
she? He felt so disgusted with himself when he had refused to marry
her. Why did the pain that flickered fleetingly across her
beautiful face hurt him so? He hadn’t meant to sound so insensitive
but his interfering brother pushed his temper to the limit. Some
time on the open range was all he needed.

Or so he thought.

If supper wasn’t bad enough, Rusty was now
sitting in the parlor with Guy’s parents, open-mouthed and
bewildered when informed she was to stay with the Strong’s. Hal
paced the floor while Claire comforted her by holding her ice-cold
hands, hoping to give her support. She felt her face drain; she
couldn’t stay here. Rusty fretted inwardly about her crops; about
Scott and how could Guy leave her at a time like this? These people
had no right to keep her against her will. She told this to Hal
until her throat was raw but what she wanted was not important
here.

“Please.” Involuntarily, her lips quivered as
the words burned in her throat. “I can’t stay here with you. I want
to go home; my own home. What about my bro....” she bit the side of
her cheek, angry for almost slipping. She sniffled, trying to make
her words sound convincing. “You can’t make me stay!” she insisted,
throwing out her quivering chin. But in her heart, she knew, there
was no other choice. She had no money to get home by herself.
Things just seemed to get worse. Was there to be no end to her
misery?

“We’re sorry,” the woman squeezed Rusty’s
hands lovingly, trying to assure her that they were doing the right
thing. “We feel somewhat duty-bound by the predicament our uncaring
son put you in.”

She felt sorry for Guy’s mother; she could
see the strain on the other woman’s face. This was hard for them
also she knew, but nevertheless, this was her life!

“Dear, we have grown very fond of you and…
and we’ll be happy to help you.” Rusty searched her heart for some
sort of understanding but there wasn’t any. The woman inhaled
deeply and continued her voice shaky. “Since my son thoughtlessly
dishonored… err, um....” She looked beseechingly at her husband for
help but received none. Clair murmured, “I love my son but I would
like to box his ears. But can you find it in your heart to…?

Rusty nodded, hoping they believed she had
come to agree. In the back of her mind, she had other plans
forming. Not having any money didn’t mean she couldn’t find a way
out of her dilemma. She didn’t want to be a lovely young lady with
refined manners. Well, maybe she did, but she also wanted to return
home. Though she felt the Strong’s were only trying to do what was
right, she couldn’t do as they wanted. That night, while everyone
slumbered, Rusty put on her old clothes and tip-toed out of the
house. She couldn’t saddle Butterscotch without waking the stable
boy, so she quietly led the sorrel out of the barn, cooing to the
horse softly. Once outside, she mounted quickly, glad she could
ride bareback and rode off into the darkness.

Chapter Twenty-One

It was risky riding alone in the dark but
Rusty would rather chance the wilderness than stay where she was.
Tired for having her life staked out like virgin land, she decided
to take matters in her own hands. She had reloaded her derringer
and remembered to take along extra bullets and regretted the fact
that she hadn’t taken her six-shooter on the trip. She also
regretted that she had to hurt Claire and Hal and would miss the
rest of the family, including her new friend, Susan. But she was
determined her life would go on, even though she would miss that
arrogant cowboy the most.

Wiping tears that stung her eyes, she
traveled along the dark road heading east to a small mining town
she’d heard one of the hands talking about. It wasn’t wise to go
back to Sweetwood in San Joaquin Valley, even if she had the money
for a train ticket, they would look for her there first. No, the
mining town was her best choice; no one would think she went there.
She had to look for work so she could someday buy that train ticket
back to her home and Guy. She loved him and would always love him
no matter how much he had hurt her.

Rusty stopped to rest and pattered
Butterscotch. Even though Hal gave her the sorrel as a gift, she
left a note in her room, thanking them for their hospitality and
concern, saying she’d someday send money to pay for the horse, not
wanting to owe anyone anything. Nudging Butterscotch, she continued
on at a slow pace, drifting off to sleep, only to awaken moments
later with a jerk feeling herself slipping from the horse.
Startled, she clutched the white mane, hoisted herself up and
straightened her back, chiding herself for dozing. Rusty was about
to dismount, but upon hearing a coyote howl, she thought it was
better to rest atop the animal.

Although bone-weary and exhausted from
crying, she had to stay awake. Rusty reached into her pocket to
retrieve a biscuit she had taken from the kitchen during her
departure. A shiny red apple sat in her other pocket and it was
imperative she find a town before she starved to death. How far
would she have to travel before coming upon any inhabitants?

Two days later, very weary and hungry, Rusty
came upon a wagon sitting in the middle of the road. Her hands
gripped Butterscotch’s mane tightly so not to fall; the only sleep
she’d had was during twilight as the horse grazed on grass for
awhile. She had continued east but not a soul had she come across
during all that distance and she feared she’d been riding in the
wrong direction.

“Git goin’...ya no good son-of-a-ass!” Rusty
heard the deep voice before she saw the person swearing at a lazy
mule attached to a rickety old wagon sitting in the middle of the
road.

“I said, git, ya no good lazy mule-headed
excuse fer an animal! I’ve a good mind to shoot ya where ya stand!
Now git!” The voice grumbled and hollered a few more choice words
at the mule. The form was hunched over the rump of the stubborn
animal, pushing with all its might. There was a low grunt before a
large hand swatted the rump, managing to get a loud bray from the
mule. The animal’s head turned and bared rotten teeth, trying to
nip his assailant. The hand swatted the rump again. “Try and bite
me ya no good....”

As weary as Rusty was she had to smile when
the irate person stood and put his hands on his wide hips. “That’s
it. I’ve been patient but now I’m done being nice to ya.” The
animal retorted with a loud hee-haw and Rusty could have sworn the
beast was laughing. She rubbed her eyes definitely needing sleep.
After focusing her vision, she saw that the stranger was big. But
when the meaty hand removed the hat, she sucked in her breath,
taken by surprise. A long salt and pepper braid fell from its
confinement.

Why he’s a she!

Rusty was relieved to come across someone of
her own sex.

“Can I help?” Rusty offered but her words
came out with a deep yawn.

The woman squinted, and Rusty assumed the
stranger was trying to make out who she was in the twilight. “And
who might ya be?” the woman asked acerbically. “Rarely do I meet
anyone on this wayward trail, especially a mere girl.”

She nudged her horse closer. “My name is
Rusty Crawford.” She let go of the mane only to fall off the horse
in a dead heap. When her eyelids fluttered open for a minute, she
realized that she had passed out and was now being held to the
woman’s large bosom.

The kind lady clicked her tongue in
puzzlement. “Ya all right, honey?”

She moaned, “I’m just tired, so tired.”
Darkness engulfed her once more and she awoke again, this time on
the hard wooden floor of the bumpy, rocking wagon. “Oh,” she
groaned as her head struck the side of the cart. Her back felt
bruised and she suspected her spine was out of joint from sleeping
in this torture wagon. The woman must have heard her groan because
she turned and smile.

“Well, ya finally woke. Land sakes child, ya
scared ten years from my life, and Lord knows, I can’t spare
anymore. Where do ya come from, girl? When was the last time ya had
any sleep and food?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. Not
waiting for an answer, she turned back to her driving.

Because the rocky ride over the ruts in the
dirt road caused her to bite her tongue, Rusty groaned and didn’t
reply. She tried to sit but her effort only made her knock her head
again.

“Lie still!” she was told. “We’re almost
there. It took me a spell to git this no good flea bag to git
goin’. Darn critter.” She spat onto the ground. “We’re almost home.
Ya slept all the time I was trying’ to git this mangy critter to
move and another half hour travelin’. Lost too much time; got to
git me a horse. Should of traded in my pa’s old time piece long
time ago fer a worthy beast. But the pocket watch means more to me,
even though a gal can’t make a decent livin’ if she’s to waste time
on a no good mule. Whoa! I said whoa!”

Rusty felt the wagon stop with a jolt. She
didn’t know where she was but she would settle for anywhere as long
as it was out of this contraption. With a grunt and a moan, she
eased her aching body out of the torture chamber and stood on
wobbly legs. Spotting her horse tied to the back of the wagon, she
hobbled over and rested her weary head on its side for a moment,
then looked around to see they were standing by a log cabin.

“Well, she ain’t much, but this here is
home.” The kind woman gave her a smile and kicked her muddy boots
against the door frame. “C’mon, don’t be shy.”