To Tame A Texan (8 page)

“There's lots of young cowboys who've never gotten to go on a drive,” Cimarron said, “but it doesn't sound like Ace's cup of tea.”

“I reckon not,” his father grumbled. “Saloons and card games and fast women: that's all that interests Ace. Look at the mess he got poor little Lynnie into. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if the McBrides never spoke to us again.”

“Hmm.” Cimarron thought about it a long moment. “I wouldn't put all the blame on Ace. You know, she's feisty, stubborn, and as headstrong as he is.”

He whirled on her. “You're not excusing his behavior!”

“Double damnation, Trace, I'm just saying that little red-haired rascal may not be as innocent as she looks.”

Her husband looked shocked. “Why, that sweet little thing couldn't possibly . . .”

“Maybe not. But I'm a woman and I know Lynnie better than you. Actually, I think they're two of a kind.”

Trace smoked his cigarillo and shook his head. “Of course, I can't expect you to understand that Ace should have protected the lady and—”

“Don't use that glib, superior tone with me,
hombre.”
Cimarron tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Frankly, I think votes for women will come; it's just a matter of time.”

His dark eyes blinked. “I never thought I'd hear you say that.”

“That just goes to show you that you don't always know everything there is to know about women; nor does your son, but he thinks he does.” She slipped her arms around her husband's neck and gave him a quick kiss before returning to her sewing. The little brown dog promptly hopped up into her lap and settled down.

Trace returned to staring into the fire, as if reliving a time past. “You know, darlin', I'll bet a lot of old-timers would like to send their sons or grandsons along for one last, big cattle drive.”

“Are we back on that subject?”

“It'd be good for Ace, too,” her husband argued.

 

 

Of course, Ace didn't think so. When he sat down for breakfast the next morning, he was so stiff from the big fight and cleaning stables that he had to suppress a groan. He took a sip of coffee and shuddered. “Juanita not back yet?”

His mother put her finger to her lips for silence and shook her head.

Every bone in his body hurt, and now the coffee was lousy. He thought of all the fun he was missing at the local cantina and sighed.

It was then that Dad began to tell him his plans for one last, big cattle drive.

Ace looked at his father. “Let me get this straight, Dad: you want me to nursemaid a bunch of stupid cows all the way to Dodge City?”

Trace nodded. “It'll be fun; you'll see.”

Ace grimaced and ran his hand through his black hair. “Don't sound like fun to me: sleepin' on the ground, eatin' dust all day. No women, no cards, no saloons, and what do we do for grub?”

“I'll send Cookie along with the chuck wagon,” Trace said.

“Cookie?” Ace's voice rose in dismay. “That's addin' insult to injury. Why, that old geezer couldn't cook a egg so a dog could eat it.”

“I heerd that!” The old man stuck his grizzled head out the kitchen door. “I'll have you know, you young whippersnapper, I've cooked on many a cattle drive a dozen years before you was ever born.”

“And left a trail of poisoned cowboys all along the way,” Ace suggested with a grin.

“I can think of one I'd like to poison.” With a snort, Cookie disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of banging pans increased.

“Now look what you've done,” Ma whispered. “You've upset him.”

“Will that make his cookin' better or worse?”

Trace stared at the burnt food on his plate and pushed it back. “You'd be surprised how good Cookie's grub will taste after a long day's ride on the trail.”

Ace groaned at the thought. “I don't think so.”

“Nevertheless,” Trace said sternly, “if I can get this drive organized, you'll be going along.”

“Ma,” he implored his mother.

“Your father's right,” she said. “Every real cowboy should go on at least one cattle drive—make you appreciate what an easy life you've got.”

Easy? He had blisters on his hands from shoveling manure, and his best boots were ruined from wading around in it.

“I'm serious about the cattle drive, son,” Trace said. “It'll do you good to take a little responsibility and do something besides gamble and chase women.”

“What happens if something goes wrong? None of us young guys know anything about a long cattle drive.”

“Me and Maverick and Pedro will come along. We've all been on dozens of trail drives; we'll know what to do.”

Ace looked doubtful. “This is all because of that brawl at the governor's mansion, isn't it? That ornery little Lynnie—”

“Lynnie is a very proper lady, and you've probably ruined her reputation so she'll never get a husband,” Dad scolded.

“Me?” Ace moaned. “Lordy, Dad, Lynnie couldn't get a husband if she owned a gold mine and the biggest ranch in Texas. Why, I never met such a stubborn, opinionated—”

“Seems to me,” Ma said as she sipped her coffee, “she's no more ornery than you are.”

“Well,” Ace huffed, “you don't expect a mere girl to get a fella into trouble.”

Dad shook his head. “I never knew you to need any help getting into trouble.”

“That little schoolteacher can hold her own in a fight better than most girls,” Ace grumbled. It startled him that he felt a twinge of admiration for the red-haired vixen. She had more gumption than most of the women he knew, even if she wasn't very pretty.

“I don't want to hear any more about that nice girl,” Dad commanded.

Ace looked with mute appeal to Ma. She started to say something but seemed to think better of it. “She's a mite headstrong,” she murmured.

“A mite? A
mite?
” Ace's voice rose; then he realized it was no use. He picked up a burnt biscuit and surveyed it gravely. He imagined eating these for three or four months on the trail. The thought horrified him.

“Hurry up, son,” Trace said. “You've still got two more barns to clean out.”

“I'm goin'.” Ace pushed his plate back and reached for his Stetson. The only thing that made his odious task easier was that when he shoveled, he imagined he was burying a certain red-haired schoolteacher up to her neck in manure.

“Mail just came,” Cimarron murmured as she entered the dining room three mornings later, reading a note.

Her husband looked up from his plate of eggs and enchiladas. He was grinning because Juanita was back in the kitchen. “Who's the letter from?”

Cimarron sighed as she sat down and signaled one of the Mexican maids to pour her some coffee. “Cayenne says Lynnie's got to go up before the local school board. She may lose her job.”

“Poor little thing.” Trace paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Well, can't say I'm surprised after the trouble our delinquent son got her into at the ball.”

“I know Lynnie better than you do.” Cimarron sipped her coffee thoughtfully, still reading the letter. “Some of that was bound to be her fault.”

“How can you say that?” Trace looked aghast. “Why, that innocent little schoolteacher—”

“I just know Lynnie. She and Ace are pretty well matched when it comes to getting into trouble. Cayenne wants us to attend the school board meeting as a sign of solidarity”

“Sí,”
Trace nodded and sipped his coffee. “Although we may not be able to do anything to help. Being thrown into jail is a serious charge for a teacher, and hard to justify.”

The Mexican maid set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits in front of Cimarron. She reached for the tart wild-plum jelly. “Hmm, if Lynnie loses her job, I don't know what she'll do. What she needs is a husband.”

Trace threw back his head and laughed.
“Dios!
Who would marry Lynnie McBride? She's very sweet, but not a great beauty.”

Cimarron said, “She'll be pretty to the man who loves her. But most men will see her as headstrong and stubborn.”

“You can say that again,” Ace sneered with disgust as he entered the dining room and took a chair. “I wouldn't care if I ever saw that little wench again after all the trouble she got me into.”

“You're pretty good at getting into trouble all by yourself,” his father said pointedly.

“Which is the very reason I don't need Lynnie around to make more.” Ace signaled the maid, and she went into the kitchen and returned with a plate of steak and eggs.

Cimarron sighed and sipped her coffee. “There must be some nice young man who'd marry Lynnie.”

“Don't bet on it.” Ace grinned and cut up his steak. It was well done and crisp around the edges, just the way he liked it.

His mother ignored him. “Lynnie's smart, and she's not half bad-looking. She'd give a man fine sons . . .”

“I want sons someday, Ma,” Ace shuddered, “but not enough to sleep with Lynnie McBride.”

“Don't be crude,” his mother scolded.

Her husband laughed. “Now, there'd be bloodlines for you: by the stallion, Ace Durango, out of the mare, Lynnie McBride. Reckon the colt would be dark or have a red mane?”

“Be serious!” Cimarron snapped. There was a moment of silence as everyone enjoyed the good food and strong coffee.

“You know what I could do?” she mused, half to herself, as she looked out the window. “I could throw a big barbecue and invite everyone in two counties—and, of course, Lynnie. There's bound to be someone in two big counties who might marry her.”

Ace groaned. “Don't bet on it. Besides, it ain't fair to ambush poor, unsuspecting
hombres
like that.”

His father shrugged. “Women do things like that all the time, son. They spend their whole lives trying to rope and tie men up.”

“I beg your pardon.” Cimarron bristled.

“Everyone except you, darlin',” Trace hastened to add. “I was really lucky to get you.”

“Then, it's settled,” Cimarron said as she laid the letter aside and smiled with satisfaction. “I'll have to talk to Cayenne about it.”

Ace paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked at his father. Dad raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“What's settled?” The two men looked at her blankly.

She looked annoyed. “Why, what we just agreed on about having a big barbecue and inviting most of both counties so Lynnie can meet an eligible man.”

Somehow, Ace didn't like the look of this. “Did we agree to that?”

His father laughed. “I reckon your mother's made up her mind, so it'll happen whether we agree or not.”

If it involved Lynnie McBride, Ace didn't want anything to do with it. “I think I'll plan to be gone,” Ace grumbled.

“No, you won't, son,” his mother scolded. “Besides, I'll invite a lot of other young girls.”

Ace grinned.

“Not that kind,” his father said.
“Ladies.”

“Oh.” Disappointed, he returned to his steak.

“In the meantime, we'll go to the school board meeting and see if we can save her job.”

Ace frowned. “I don't want to do anything to help Lynnie McBride.”

Both his parents looked at him.

“We are going to the school board meeting,” Dad said, and glared at him. “You got the poor girl in a lot of trouble, and it's your responsibility to help get her out.”

“Me?” Ace started to protest, decided he was up against a stacked deck and couldn't win. It would only mean more stables to clean. He imagined piling the manure on top of Lynnie's fiery head. Lordy, she was a pain in the butt.

“March,” Cimarron murmured, and smiled as she left the breakfast table to pack a few things for the trip to west Texas.
March.
Yes, that would be a great time to hold a big barbecue and fiesta. Spring would be coming to the Texas hill country by March, splashing the low hills with a riot of bluebonnets and red Indian paintbrush flowers. She knew her sister-in-law, Cayenne, would be pleased. And it would give the men a chance to all get together and discuss this cattle drive Trace had been talking about organizing. Better than that, it might give Lynnie a chance to meet eligible men.

 

 

Less than a week later, the special school board meeting had been called in the west Texas town of McBride. Cayenne had just produced her new baby girl, and the elderly patriarch of the clan, Papa Joe, wasn't feeling too well, so Maverick and some of the many children accompanied Lynnie to the meeting, along with the Durango clan from the Triple D ranch.

Lynnie pointedly ignored Ace as they met just outside the little one-room schoolhouse, and he seemed to be pretending he hadn't seen her at all. That suited her just fine. Why, she never would have been caught dead in the company of a rowdy like Ace if she hadn't needed an escort to that ball.

Lynnie's black eye was still a little green around the edges the night she walked into that meeting. Word must have gotten around that Miss McBride's job was on the line, and there was a big crowd that night in late February. An assortment of McBride and Durango children were sitting on the front row next to Lynnie when the president of the school board, young banker Ogle, rapped his gavel and shouted: “Order! Order! Let's get this hearing started!”

Lynnie watched all the pompous locals file in and sit down. Frankly, now she was a little scared, yet still defiant over the stir her trip to the state capital had caused. She hadn't realized the news would travel far enough to end up on the front page of the McBride, Texas, weekly paper, but then, the owner of the paper was still angry that the Lazy M had succeeded in buying some land the paper's owner, Clifford Schwatz, had wanted for himself.

Some of these people, the Billingses, and some of the others felt obliged to Maverick Durango and the McBride clan for saving the town during the attempted bank and stage holdup eleven years ago. Unfortunately, young banker Ogle controlled many of the others because they owed him money.

The schoolhouse was small and crowded. With not much else to do on a cold winter night, many had attended for the entertainment value of the event.

Young Ogle stood up, smiled expansively, and looked up and down the table next to him to make sure all the school board members were there. He thought of himself as somewhat of a dandy, Lynnie knew, but he was balding and pompous. He had tried to court Lynnie, but she would have none of him, and the whole town knew it.

Elmer Ogle cleared his throat importantly. “You all know we have serious business to conduct here tonight, but first, I want to invite you all to the unveiling of the statue of my father in the town square next Saturday. I was honored that a majority of the citizens thought he should be remembered for his heroism in the great stage robbery.”

Lynnie's little sister, Angel, piped up. “He wasn't no hero. Everybody in town knows Maverick saved the town that day and your pa got hisself shot accidentally by walking out in the middle of the gunfight.”

“Angel, hush!” Maverick whispered while everyone tittered at the truth of the child's words.

Automatically, Lynnie said, “Angel, it's not correct to say ‘hisself.' The proper word is
himself.
And don't use double negatives.”

The whole audience laughed again while Elmer sputtered and turned red. “Some people can't control their children,” he said, “which is why we're here tonight....”

“I beg to differ.” Lynnie stood up, although her whole family was shaking their heads at her. “The fracas at the governor's mansion had nothing to do with my family.”

She saw Trace nudge Ace, who stood up very grudgingly. “I—I was responsible for the mess Miss McBride got into.”

“I beg your pardon!” Lynnie fired back. She was not about to let that big brute take the role of heroic rescuer. “I planned it all by myself.”

An excited buzz ran through the crowded room, and she shot Ace a triumphant glare. He opened his mouth as if to speak, hesitated, and sat back down.

School board member Winifred Leane stood up and peered at her over her spectacles. “Lynnie McBride, is it true someone gave you a black eye?”

“Nobody
gave
me anything,” Lynnie fired back. “I earned this shiner.”

The room burst into tittering and whispers. Her brother-in-law shook his head at her, but Lynnie didn't care. She figured banker Ogle had enough power in this town to force the other members of the school board to fire her, and she intended to say her piece.

Mr. Schwatz glared at her. “Is it true you created a riot, along with that terrible Durango ruffian, at the governor's mansion?”

She gritted her teeth. “I did no such thing. I merely wore a banner proclaiming women's right to vote.”

“That's ungodly!” Mrs. Huffington, a very plump member of the school board, interrupted her. “It says in the Bible women shouldn't vote, and that's good enough for me!”

A series of murmuring and amens followed.

Lynnie was unruffled. “There's a Bible up there on the desk, Mrs. Huffington. Please point out the chapter and verse that says that.”

Mrs. Huffington looked about uncertainly. “I—I'm sure it's in there somewhere.”

“Enough!” Maverick thundered as he stood up. “Miss McBride is a jim-dandy teacher. I see all her students are here to speak for her.”

“That's right!” yelled little Susan Leane.

“She's a good teacher,” Billy Huffington said, “no matter what my ma says!”

More noise and confusion while banker Ogle rapped for order.

But Maverick didn't sit down. “May I remind this board that my father-in-law and I own the biggest ranch in this county, the Lazy M, and my wife and I provide a great many of the students?”

The audience tittered.

“We are well aware of the size of your brood,” Mrs. Huffington said coldly.

The crowd laughed, and Elmer Ogle rapped again. “Let's get back to the subject at hand: the firing of one Miss Lynnie McBride for questionable behavior and moral decay.”

“Moral decay?” Mrs. Leane whispered.

“Getting arrested,” the newspaper editor explained.

“No!” yelled a bunch of children from the sidelines. “We love Miss McBride; she's a great teacher!”

Penelope Dinwiddy stood up. “She's done a brave thing, giving voice to getting women the vote.”

Mr. Dinwiddy, a serious, balding man rose. “Please ignore my daughter,” the rancher said. “She idolizes Miss McBride. Frankly, our family doesn't know what to think about all this. We like the teacher, but, gettin' arrested—that's purty bad.”

Squat, fat Nelbert Purdy, a member of the school board, shook his bald head. “Morally wrong, the McBride girl is. She doesn't have the high morals of my sister, Emmalou.”

Emmalou, standing to one side, smiled generously at the audience, proud to be the epitome of virtue.

Banker Ogle rapped his gavel again. “Has the board heard enough?”

“Enough?” Lynnie protested, peering over the tops of her spectacles. “Why, I've hardly gotten started.”

Mrs. Huffington's jowly face smiled. “You know, I have a nephew in Philadelphia, young Clarence Kleinhoffer, who is of the highest moral caliber and has just graduated from a teacher's college. He might be persuaded to take the job.”

Nods and smiles of approval ran through the crowd.

Trace Durango stood up. “Miss McBride was led astray, I'm afraid.”

The newspaper editor favored Trace with a steely look. “We know your son's reputation, sir. The women all say he's somewhat of a scoundrel.”

Lynnie watched Cimarron stand up, her face red with anger. “Are you smearing the reputation of my son?”

“On the contrary,” Mrs. Leane said. “From what I hear, he's been doing a pretty good job of ruining his own reputation. I certainly wouldn't let one of my daughters go anywhere with him.”