To Tame A Texan (12 page)

“Aren't,” she corrected.

“What?” He paused, looking down at her.

“Aren't
used to women with opinions.”

“Damn,” he sighed, “I never met a girl who was so opinionated and so much trouble!”

And with that, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed and strode away, leaving her to her misery.

Lynnie watched the big cowboy turn and stagger out of the room. Then his big feet echoed down the stairs. Could she have humiliated herself any worse? She managed to get off the bed, went to the bowl and pitcher in a corner, and splashed water on her face. Outside, the merriment drifted up to her window.

Suppose people had seen Ace carrying her upstairs and hadn't seen him come back? Would they think the two of them were . . . ?
Oh, hell, of course not!
She and that uncouth rascal? Besides, what did she care what people thought? Her big sister would care, and Lynnie felt obliged to be a good example for Penelope and the younger women. She lay down on the bed until her head stopped whirling, then tidied herself up as much as possible and went down the stairs and out into the courtyard.

The fiesta was still going strong; laughter and guitar music drifted across the night air. There, under the faint glow of the Chinese lanterns, Emmalou Purdy was draped around Ace Durango's neck, laughing like a hyena.

About that time, Nelbert Purdy rounded the corner. Uh-oh. Lynnie started to yell a warning, then decided the big lunkhead deserved whatever he got. Nelbert crossed the courtyard like a train engine under full steam, grabbed Ace by the arm, and spun him around. “How dare you take advantage of my innocent little sister?”

“Innocent?” Ace said, “she was kissing me and—”

“He was taking advantage of me,” Emmalou declared with a pout. “I do think, though, brother, that his intentions are honorable.”

“They are?” Ace blinked; obviously, he'd been back at the beer keg.

Nelbert Purdy bristled. “I reckon you are plannin' on marriage with sweet Emmalou, or I may have to ask for satisfaction.”

Nelbert must be drunker than Ace, Lynnie thought, because he was older and shorter, and Ace had a reputation as a saloon brawler.

Ace turned pale as a catfish's belly “Marriage? No, not me.”

Emmalou began to cry, although Lynnie thought it sounded fake.

The crowd noise lessened, and some drunk in the back yelled “Fight! Fight!”

Now, besides liquor, fast women, and horses, there wasn't anything more fun to a bunch of Texas cowboys than a good fistfight. A crowd began to form a circle.

Ace grinned good-naturedly. “Now, Nelbert, I wasn't doin' anything—”

“But you was thinkin' it.”

Ace grinned and tried to focus his eyes. “I'd be a damned liar if I said I wasn't.”

Of course, at that point, Nelbert was honor-bound to hit Ace in the mouth, knocking him back against the wall of the fountain. The crowd set up a yell for a fight. Always obliging, Ace wiped his bloody mouth and charged at the shorter man. They meshed and slugged it out around the fountain, with the men in the crowd cheering them on.

Oh, dear. Where were Trace and Cimarron? Somebody had to break this up. Even as Lynnie looked around, trying to decide what to do next, Emmalou attacked Ace, hitting him in the back and screaming, “How dare you hit my brother! Give it to him, Nelbert!”

Ace was outnumbered—anyone could see that—trading blows with Nelbert Purdy and trying to fend off Emmalou, who was slapping and hitting him. It wasn't fair, especially as drunk as Ace was. Always one to come to the aid of the underdog, Lynnie charged in, grabbing the buxom girl by that long blond hair, which was certainly dyed. Now there were four of them struggling and shouting near the bubbling fountain.

“Let go of me, you old maid, you!” Emmalou scratched and slapped, but Lynnie was used to dealing with overgrown students. She pushed the younger girl, and they both stumbled backward and fell into the fountain with a splash. They both came up wet and gasping. Thunderation, the water was cold. It molded her green gingham dress to her slender form, and the incredulous looks on the crowd's faces as they ringed the fountain was something to see.

Just then, Ace punched Nelbert again and they meshed, both going into the fountain with a shower of water. About that time, she heard running feet, and Ace's dad pushed through the crowd, his face marked by both disbelief and anger.

“Ace, what the hell's going on out here?”

In answer, Ace knocked Nelbert down again, and water sprayed everyone near the fountain. Emmalou stood up, the water molding her dress to her big bosoms, and wailed, “Your son won't marry me, and he's ruined my honor.”

“Oh, Emmalou,” Lynnie said, “we all know your family's hoping to marry money.”

She smacked Emmalou again, and the buxom girl began to wail. “My dress. You've ruined my dress.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lynnie snapped. “You aren't hurt.”

She could see Cimarron and her big sister coming from the house even as Ace's father and Uncle Maverick climbed into the fountain, separating everyone.

“Show's over!” Trace yelled, and then he said the magic words to scatter the crowd. “I think the cook just put out more food and another keg of beer!”

The crowd cheered, and most started drifting away. A drunken cowboy grinned as he left. “More beer and a good fight! Life don't get no better than this.”

Any
better, Lynnie thought, but she only gathered her sodden skirts around her and stood looking at Cimarron's and her big sister Cayenne's horrified faces. Someone helped Emmalou and Nelbert climb out of the fountain, and little Tequila promptly ran over barking and sank his sharp little teeth into Purdy's leg.

“Dagnab it, even the Durango mutt is dangerous!” Nelbert howled. “I wasn't doing nothin' but protectin' my sister's honor.”

“That's right,” Emmalou wailed. “I thought Ace had honorable intentions.”

“Emmalou,” Lynnie snorted, “anyone who knows Ace knows he hasn't an honorable bone in his body. Besides, he couldn't have done anything with you; he was upstairs in the bedroom with me!”

Everyone turned and stared at her, then at the buxom Emmalou. Given the choice, it didn't seem too likely.

Ace looked at her with disbelief, then slowly smiled, realizing her sacrifice. “Can I help you out of the fountain, Lynnie?”

Oh, God, what had she done? It horrified her that anyone might think she would actually ... and with an uncivilized brute like Ace Durango.

“No, thank you,” she replied primly, already regretting her words.

Emmalou began to howl like a cat whose tail had gotten caught under a rocking chair.

“Emmalou,” Lynnie said, “he isn't going to marry you. Now stop your caterwauling.”

“You Durangos!” Nelbert hissed at Ace, water dripping from his stocky form, “you think you're so high and mighty—too good to marry into regular workin' folk. . .”

“Now Nelbert,” Trace soothed, “you're drunk and there's no harm done. Go have another drink and some more barbecue.”

“You think your rascal of a son is too good for my poor, innocent sister.”

Lynnie started to point out that everyone in the county knew Emmalou hadn't been innocent since she was twelve or so, but decided that it would only add fuel to the fire.

Nelbert's weathered face was dark with anger. “From now on, Trace Durango, you and I is quits. I'm gonna join up with Willis Forrester's cattle drive, and we'll beat you to Dodge City.”

The Purdys marched away with as much dignity as they could muster, which wasn't much, considering they were leaving a trail of water, and their wet shoes squished with each step.

Trace turned back to the fountain and cursed in Spanish. “Well, son, now see what you've done.”

Ace grinned. He was still drunk, Lynnie thought. “Thanks, Lynnie, now can I help you out of the fountain?”

“May
I help you?” she corrected, very conscious that her wet clothes were clinging to her.

Ace grinned, evidently enjoying the sight. “No, I don't need no help, Lynnie, but let's get out of here.”

Before she could protest, he caught her arm and assisted her as they climbed out and stood there, dripping water. The crowd had headed back for more food and beer, but Trace was glaring at them both. Lynnie remembered he had a famous temper when riled.

“Uncle Trace, let me explain . . .”

“Never mind, Miss Lynnie. I'm sure this wasn't your fault. The two of you get in the house and dry out. We'll be the talk of the whole county tomorrow.”

Ace grinned good-naturedly. “That was larrupin' fun, Lynnie. I didn't know you could fight like that.”

“Young lady...” Her sister took her arm. “This is the last social event you'll be attending for a while.”

There was no point in explaining she had only been helping Ace. When gossip got around, she wouldn't have any reputation left.

“I suppose this means I can't go to Dodge City for the women's meeting?” Lynnie asked in a soft, subdued voice.

Cayenne glared at her. “Do you even need to ask? You're not going anywhere, young lady. Now march.”

Ace grinned at Lynnie. “Reckon we're even now, Miss Priss. I owed you one for the trouble in Austin.”

She tried to kick his shins, but he dodged her as they both walked, dripping water, toward the house.

 

 

True to her word, big sister Cayenne put Lynnie under strict supervision, and in the next couple of weeks, she wasn't allowed to go anywhere. However, when word came from the Dinwiddy ranch that Penelope's new sewing machine had arrived and she wanted Lynnie to come help her sew clothes for the Christian Aid Society charity, Cayenne decided it was a worthy cause and let Lynnie take a horse and go. It was a long ride, but even the daintiest Texas girl could handle a horse.

“Hallo the house!” Lynnie dismounted from her gray horse as a dozen mongrel dogs boiled out from under the front porch, barking a greeting. Penelope came out on the porch, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Hey, Lynnie, what have you been doing the last week or so?”

“Not much,” Lynnie answered grimly. “Still trying to figure out how to get to Kansas for the Independence Day meeting.” She tied her horse to the hitching rail.

Penny shook her head. “Don't you ever give up? You know your sister is not going to let you go.”

“If women give up, we'll never get the vote,” Lynnie answered as they went inside. “I'm allowed to stay till next Saturday because it's such a long ride over, and the whole ranch is preoccupied with that stupid cattle drive Ace's dad thought up.”

“That begins next week, doesn't it?”

Lynnie nodded. “Let's see that fancy sewing machine of yours.”

Penelope led her into the parlor, where the new machine sat in state. “Had it shipped all the way from St. Louis. You operate it with your foot.”

Lynnie peered at the wonder through her spectacles. “Isn't technology something? I could use a new dress or two. I ruined my green one in the fountain.”

Penelope smiled, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How is Ace Durango? Everyone's talking about it.”

Lynnie drew herself up proudly. “I'm sure I wouldn't know, and I certainly don't care.”

“When you two get together, there always seems to be trouble,” Penelope said.

“That's because he's a typical, stupid man. The kind I'd like to meet is a civilized, well-educated man with whom I could discuss poetry and philosophy.”

Penelope looked doubtful. “Sounds like the new schoolmaster, the one who's just been hired to replace you; Clarence Kleinhoffer.”

“Oh, did they hire him?” Lynnie's ears pricked up.

“Yes, he's coming to call on my parents since me and my little brother are still in school.”

Lynnie decided not to correct Penelope's grammar, because she wanted to know more about the new schoolmaster. “Now, there's the kind of civilized man who would help lead women's emancipation.”

Penelope raised one eyebrow. “I don't know about that. I've met him briefly, and he's a Yankee.”

They frowned at each other. “Yankee” was not a good thing in post-Civil War Texas.

“Besides,” Penny said, playing with her hair, “Mr. Kleinhoffer seems awfully straitlaced and priggish—not like our local cowboys.”

Lynnie snorted. “Our local cowboys wouldn't know what the word ‘priggish' meant—especially that lout Ace Durango. If there was ever a more savage, uncivilized ...”

“Some of the girls said he'd be fun to tame.” Penelope smiled.

“Tame? That brute? Impossible.” Lynnie shook her head.

About that time, the dogs started raising a ruckus out front.

Penelope got up and went to peer out the front window. “I think the schoolmaster has arrived for supper.”

Lynnie hurried to join her. “At last, an educated, civilized man.”

She peered out, too, and was disappointed. Young Clarence Kleinhoffer was still in his buggy, looking down at the dogs as if terrified and waiting for someone to rescue him. He wasn't much to look at, Lynnie thought—not big and broad-shouldered like that ruffian Ace, but of course, he would have redeeming qualities like sophistication and education. At least the new schoolmaster wore a very stylish suit with a flowered vest. His hair was parted down the middle and greased so much, it reflected the sunlight.

“My,” said Penelope, “I never saw any man around these parts dress that fine.”

“He's a gentleman from a big city,” Lynnie recalled, “but he's obviously not used to dealing with hound dogs. Yell at your little brother to go rescue him.”

Thus rescued, the schoolmaster entered the house. Introductions were made, and Clarence was evidently quite entranced by both young women, although no one bothered to tell him about Lynnie's past history.