Pioneer Passion (3 page)

Where would she go? And where the hell was
Scott?

When the cowboy threw the deed to the farm on
the table, it was all the proof she needed. Dammit, he was telling
the truth! She felt like such a fool! Why hadn’t he just shown her
the deed right off? Maybe if you had given him a chance, the man
might have, needled her conscience. It didn’t matter now because
either way it ended with her losing her father and her home.

She loved her pa and no amount of tears would
bring Sam Crawford back. Yes, she loved him but she also hated him
for losing the homestead. Rusty believed that she was being selfish
for thinking only of herself, but her brother was gone and she had
no idea when he’d be back, if at all! She was alone to fend for
herself. If her pa and her brother loved her, then why had they
left her? At that moment she was thinking how quickly her life had
changed, and she knew for sure that it would change dramatically
from this day forward.

Rusty stared at the deed for many long
minutes. Her stomach knotted and she bit hard on her lips to keep
them from quivering. She could taste her own blood but was heedless
of the pain. Finally, sitting stiff in her chair, she looked the
cowboy straight in the eye and bristled. Despite her resolve to
stay calm, she asked, “What’s to become of me?”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Guy
said firmly.

Rusty was still suspicious of the stranger’s
motives, but shrugged. She needed time to think and plan. If only
her brother would return; maybe together they could come up with an
idea to get the farm back. Right now, she felt too exhausted and
pained to think clearly. She walked in a trance to the stove and
removed the stew. Although her appetite was gone, her stomach
rumbled in protest at its emptiness.

“I’m going to bed now, if you don’t mind?”
She kept her voice deep and flat. “You can bunk in the barn,” she
shrugged, “it doesn’t matter to me.” To herself, she said, Son of a
bitch, nothing matters to me. You can go straight to….

Feeling like a complete heel, Guy walked
Blizzard to the decrepit barn knowing that he couldn’t put this
young person out. Though the big hat shadowed most of the face, he
had been close enough to see the cool green eyes of the gun-toting
youth, and he was a sissy looking boy. Never had he wanted to tan a
youth’s hide as much as he did now, but snot nose, that he was, he
had noticed the calluses on the small hands and the hard work that
had gone into this place. The thriving vegetable garden didn’t go
unnoticed either and he figured the kid wasn’t going to give up
easily. Besides, he could use the help.

Damn, he wasn’t happy about this! He’d offer
the lad a job and a roof over his head, but this wasn’t the time to
make a deal. He could see that this boy had a lot of pride and the
kid would probably refuse the offer, just for spite. Guy would wait
until the shock wore off and the youth realized he’d be better off
here as a hired hand then off alone in the wilderness.

Chapter Three

Rusty awoke early next day and wiped the
crust from her eyes wondering why she felt so out of sorts. The sun
came over the hill, her room lit up with small rays of light
forming an island of warmth over her body but not her soul. It took
her a moment to gather her thoughts and she wondered what time she
had cried herself to sleep. She shivered, recalled her predicament
and squeezed her eyes shut. She wished it had all been a bad dream,
but the aroma of coffee filled her senses and the smell teased her
nostrils.

Like a shot, she sat and remembered all too
well the stranger in her house. She was famished and she remembered
that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. Placing her feet
on the wooden floor, she huffed, “Let him drink his own coffee.”
She continued to grumble while putting on her shirt. Her chest
itched under the tight binding because she didn’t dare take off the
cloth last night for fear of being discovered. Not that she
believed the stranger would come into her room, thinking her a boy,
but she felt comfort in the wrappings. Now she longed to rip them
off and scratch her skin raw. Slipping her legs into denim pants,
she noted yet another hole under the left knee and sighed deeply.
Pretty soon she’d be walking around in shreds.

“Drat!” She plopped down on the small bed
then lay back down and stared at the wooden ceiling, pondering
again on what would become of her. Where would she and her brother
go?

They had no other family or money. “Oh, pa,
why did you do this to us?” she grumbled aloud, then ordered
herself to think positive.

Not relishing the thought of staying in the
room any longer, she combed her hair, re-braided it tightly, and
made sure the hat was firmly on her head. Retrieving her worn-out
boots from under the bed, she slipped them on with a loud disgusted
snort. It was time to face the new day and figure out how she and
Scott could straighten out this mess. Maybe the stranger would see
how bad this place was and not want it. “Yeah, when cows fly,” she
declared through clenched teeth. Her instincts told her he was here
to stay. Maybe she could sign a promissory note and buy the place
back. If the orange crops came in plentiful and the profits were
good, she could pay the note off a little at a time. With new hope,
Rusty went into the kitchen.

The stranger was nowhere in sight. Good! He
left, she pouted to herself knowing full well that it was only
wishful thinking. The coffee teased her senses again; her hopes
deflated knowing he was around somewhere. Rusty yawned, still
groggy from lack of sleep, but then the door slammed behind her
making her jump.

“Good mornin’, kid, did you sleep okay?”

Rusty heard the concern in his voice but
shrugged trying not to show the cowboy how uneasy he made her feel.
Her life was unraveling before her eyes like a frayed seam on her
shirt. Not wanting to talk to him until Scott returned, she sat in
the chair trying to ignore how he filled the small room with his
splendid body. Now, where did that thought come from? She wiggled
in the chair like a pollywog, embarrassed at where her mind had
traveled. Here she was, about to be cast out of her home, having
just lost her father, and all she thought about was the handsome
stranger. Even through her tears last night, he had haunted her
dreams. His deep voice brought her out of her musings.

“Hope you don’t mind me brewing a pot of
coffee? I couldn’t find any around here, but I had some in my
saddle bags. Help yourself.”

The cowboy nodded to the stove but she didn’t
move so he took two cups off the counter and filled them with the
steaming dark liquid. He sat on a chair, placed one cup in front of
her. Taking a sip of the hot brew, he watched her for a moment and
asked, “What’s your name, son?” When he received no answer from her
he shrugged.

“Look, kid, I’m trying to be patient. It
wasn’t until later last night when I realized I’d never asked your
name.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I really wish you’d stop
looking at me with a hard eye; it wasn’t my fault.” Putting down
his cup, he said, “If you and I are going to get along at all, it’s
time you acted more like a man then a wet-nosed kid. I hate to be
so cruel, but you have to snap out of it and realize I had nothing
to do with your father’s death. I didn’t want the farm in the first
place, but that’s the way things turned out. You have to face up to
the truth.”

Rusty sucked in her breath sharply. He hit a
nerve and his insensitive words had piqued her anger. She sat up
straight and said, through clenched teeth, “I have no intentions of
getting along with you. You came here yesterday telling me that my
father was dead and you’re the owner of my home. This news does not
make us good buddies, n-now or e-ever!”

She prayed that he didn’t hear the moment her
voice cracked. The man stood abruptly, sending the chair crashing
to the floor. It did not survive the fall and he looked at the
broken pieces.

“This wasn’t what I bargained for and my
patience is now worn thin!” He slammed his fist on the table making
her flinch. “Let’s get one thing straight!” She gulped, seeing his
temper flaring, “I don’t intend to put you out, and I’m very sorry,
again, about your pa. I didn’t kill him or ask for this damn,
forsaken place. He insisted I play for the deed. It was against my
better judgment, but he convinced me, as a gentleman, though I’m
sure you’d disagree with him. Also,” Guy rubbed his eyes, “I saw to
it that your father had a proper burial in that small mining
town.”

In a small, rebellious voice, she answered,
“That may be so, but you now own my home, and I want it back.”
Rusty blinked back a tear and she was surprised how the sound of
her voice came out so meek since she felt like exploding
inside.

He raked his hand through his messed hair as
the muscles in his jaw twitched. Surely, at that moment, he wanted
nothing better than to throttle her, but instead he took a deep
breath. And to his credit, he remained calm, and spoke, “I meant
what I said. I would like you to stay and help me with the place.
You have a home here as long as you want.” Guy gulped down the last
of his coffee and made a face as if the delicious brew now tasted
bitter. Scratching the back of his neck, he swore under his breath.
“Look,” he swallowed hard, “please give it a couple of days, maybe
in time...”

Their eyes locked; she didn’t blink.

The cowboy grunted and said, “I can
understand you’re very upset. If it was me in your shoes, I’d
probably feel the same way, but...” This time he didn’t hide his
annoyance and pulled out the other chair gingerly and placed one
long leg on it. He leaned on his knee and tried once more to plead
with her. She remained stone faced across from him letting him know
that he

wasn’t going to get anywhere. She heard him
suck in a breath to calm himself before he said, “I don’t like this
any better then you.”

Sweat trickled down his brow and again he
swallowed. “You, this place, this situation is exasperating, to say
the least. But let’s change the course of this conversation, and
answer my question. Can you at least tell me your name, son?”

A moment of strained silence passed making
the situation more uneasy. Rusty’s lips moved silently for a
moment, trying to find her tongue. She didn’t trust him, for she
knew nothing about his character that would warrant her trust. She
decided it was better to remain on his good side until her brother
returned and they could pull together in getting back the farm. She
had pushed and he’d probably kick her backside out the door, but
she’d leave before asking him for anything.

“Rusty,” she finally replied, barely above a
whisper and Guy’s brows shot up. She squirmed, sucking her lower
lip. “I… I said my name is Rusty,” she repeated clearing her
throat. The cowboy let out a relieved breath, gifting her with a
smile, and she noticed to her dismay that he was much better
looking when he did. A fluttery feeling consumed Rusty and she
wished he’d stop gazing at her with that strange look. Her skin
crawled making her afraid that he might see through her disguise.
Quickly, she sucked in her breath trying to ignore emotions she
couldn’t understand. Lowering her eyes to hide her uneasiness, she
realized that being around him wasn’t going to be easy.

“Well, Russell, I was thinking about this
place and---”

“Rusty, not Russell!” she interrupted him,
but then gave a weak smile.

“Oh, err, well, sorry. I assumed....” his
voice trailed away.

Rusty saw his jaw harden and didn’t care that
she had caused him discomfort. But the sight of his flexing muscles
rippling under his shirt caused her insides to melt. “Damnation!”
she spat without thinking.

“What?” he asked.

“Aw, nothing,” she fibbed. “What were you
saying?”

She watched him busily pick up the broken
chair as he spoke. “I want to fix up the place and hoped you would
stay and help me. This shack and the barn look as if they will
collapse in the next big wind. “Ouch!” he dropped a piece of wood
and sucked at the splinter in his thumb.

Rusty smiled. Serves him right for thinking
her home was a shack. Apparently, Guy ignored the small discomfort
and continued to gather up the broken chair, being more
careful.

“I looked over the spread again last night
and was impressed by your vegetable garden, but I’ve never seen
trees like that before… the ones growing in the field.” He didn’t
look up to see if she was listening and it was well he didn’t
because she was still pouting.

“I can’t understand why a father would leave
a child all alone, even though you’re a boy.” She gave him a low
disgusted grumble, and he quickly added, “But I can see by the hard
work, you’ve done well by yourself, so how about it? I can use your
help and know-how.” Guy glanced up quickly.

She mulled over his offer letting minutes
lapse for an uncomfortable span of time but finally replied, “I
guess I can stay a while.” Her finger absentmindedly rubbed around
the coffee cup rim, and as an afterthought, Rusty added, “Those
flowery trees in the field are orange trees and the new crops are
saplings. This place and my crops mean everything to me, now that
my father is dead.”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. I’ll see ya
later, son.” And he left with the pieces of the destroyed
chair.

Pleased the way the morning turned out, Rusty
scrubbed her extra shirt and pants. Guy’s offer was what she had
hoped for. It would give her the time she needed to come up with a
way of keeping her home. And, she had wanted to say, “Thank you for
seeing to my pa’s burial,” but she couldn’t bring herself to voice
her sentiments of gratitude at that time.

The cowboy had ridden out and her guess was
the man was going to look around some more. Sadly, she now thought
about her father. Her pa had owned acres of land, most of it
unplowed, for he only worked a small area, losing interest when her
mother died. They plowed only the soil she, with her brother’s
limited help, could handle. She’d be damned if she’d give it up
easily knowing how hard she’d worked for it. For a young woman with
little help she did pretty darn well. Some years were better than
others, depending on the rainfall. In more fortunate years, the
oranges grew juicy and big and she was proud of her grove.