To Tame A Texan (9 page)

Titters from the crowd.

“Mrs. Leane ...” Cimarron seemed to be fighting to control her anger. “I doubt my son would want to call on one of your homely daughters.”

“Why, I never!” Mrs. Leane's fat mouth dropped open.

More titters from the crowd, turning into pandemonium again, with banker Ogle rapping in vain for silence. “We shall retire to discuss our verdict.”

The vote was a foregone conclusion because so many of the board members owed the banker money and there was old bad blood between the Ogle family and the McBrides.

The room fell silent, and Lynnie was abruptly a little scared. She hadn't really thought about losing her job. However, if she must make that sacrifice for the good of the cause; so be it. She glared at Ace Durango, and he glared back. She had used him, and he was angry about it. Well, it served him right. No doubt he had used many an innocent girl for his own ends.

In less than five minutes, the board filed back in, and Elmer Ogle rapped for silence. “The board has made its decision. Miss McBride, having behaved in a manner that is unacceptable for a person of her responsibilities, is terminated as of this evening. We are going to offer the job of schoolmaster to Clarence Kleinhoffer; a fine, upstanding pillar of virtue.”

“You can't fire me; I quit!” Lynnie stood up and began to wave her arms. “Free women! Votes for Texas women!”

All the children took up her chant, to the dismay of the school board members. Banker Ogle rapped in vain for order. “The Durangos and the McBrides are a bunch of uncivilized—”

“You can't talk about my family that way!” Maverick apparently lost his temper, strode to the front of the room, and hit Elmer Ogle in the nose. The young man was sobbing like a girl as men moved in to pull Maverick back.

“I'm bleeding!” Ogle sobbed. “Look, I'm bleeding!”

Lynnie climbed up on a school desk, waving the Texas flag she had just grabbed off its pole. “Votes for women!” she shouted. “Free Texas women!”

All the children began to shout: “Votes for women! Texans for women's rights!”

“Now, just see,” Mrs. Leane shouted in horror, “just see how she has corrupted our children!”

“Oh, shut up!” Lynnie shouted back, “you pompous old windbag!”

Mrs. Leane collapsed in her chair with the other ladies clustered about, offering smelling salts. The whole room was in an uproar and getting worse by the minute.

“Lynnie!” Maverick yelled, “get off that desk!”

“Votes for women!” Lynnie shouted back, “Give women the vote! Remember the Alamo!”

It seemed to Ace that the Alamo had nothing to do with women's right to vote, but as always, it brought a cheer from everyone in the room—even those who didn't favor women voting.

At that point, Lynnie began to sing “The Yellow Rose of Texas” at the top of her lungs while waving her flag. The children took up the song as she stepped off the desk and led a grand march around the room.

“This is outrageous!” Elmer Ogle roared. “This is uncivilized. The woman has no shame!”

“Oh, shut up, you bloodsucking money grabber!” Lynnie yelled as she led her little parade outside to march around the schoolhouse. Then she stepped aside and watched her young disciples continue to march and sing. Frankly, she was a little scared but still defiant.
Now that she'd lost her job, what was she going to do?

Her favorite student, tall and thin Penelope Dinwiddy, caught up with Lynnie outside in the bright moonlight. She was as serious as Lynnie herself. “Oh, Miss McBride, I'm so sorry,” she wailed. “You're disgraced. What are you going to do now?”

Lynnie straightened her shoulders and watched the marching children with satisfaction. Her frustrated brother-in-law was attempting to pull the various members of his own clan out of the parade so they could go home. “Well, I reckon I can forget about asking the board to sponsor my trip to Dodge City.”

“Dodge City?” Penelope looked baffled.

“Don't you remember? There's a big Women's Rights gathering up there for the Fourth of July. I had hoped to attend, cheer the ladies on, and maybe get some help for the downtrodden females in Texas.”

“Your folks wouldn't let you go,” Penelope said as they walked out to the buggy.

“You're right; I've already asked,” Lynnie sighed. “And Cayenne and Papa Joe aren't going to be too happy over what happened here tonight. They don't seem to understand that I feel it's my calling to help get the vote for women.”

Penelope shook her head. “I thought, when I heard that the handsome Ace Durango was taking you to the ball, that you were about to settle down and get married. . . .”

“To Ace Durango?” Lynnie threw back her head and laughed. “Why, that pigheaded, woman-chasing, gambling fool—he'd be the last man an independent girl would want.”

“Lots of girls would have given their eye teeth to go to the ball with him,” Penelope pointed out.

“He is the most egotistical, arrogant, untamed rascal in Texas,” Lynnie said. “I couldn't stay in the same room with him for five minutes without an argument. He thinks women are good for only one thing.”

The other girl rolled her eyes and giggled. “Lots of girls would like to find out what that one thing is with him.”

“Penny,” Lynnie said in a stern voice, “I doubt your conviction to our good cause.”

Penelope grabbed her arm. “I believe in women's rights; I truly do, Miss McBride. It's just that Ace Durango is so charming and every girl in Texas has set her cap for him.”

Lynnie turned away. “Well, that lets me out, anyway, doesn't it? I haven't got the looks to attract the brute, even if I were interested—which I'm not. Believe me, Penelope, I'm looking for a man who will appreciate me for my fine mind.”

“Right!” said Penelope, and turned to look at the crowd coming out of the schoolhouse. “As mad as your brother-in-law looks, you'd better forget about the Dodge City Women's Rights meeting.”

“I suppose you're right.” Lynnie chewed her lip. “I may have gone too far this time.”

“And Dodge City is a long way, Miss McBride.” Penelope was always the sensible one. “And even if there was a train there, which there ain't—”

“Isn't,” Lynnie corrected automatically. “Do you have any money, Penelope?”

“Me?” Penelope touched her chest. “No more than you do.”

“Well, I reckon that lets out buying a ticket on the stage, but I'm not giving up yet.”

Her friend grinned. “That's what I like about you: you're so stubborn and determined.”

“Still, it's a pretty big challenge,” Lynnie admitted.

“Young lady,” Maverick yelled, “get in the buggy.”

She left her friend and walked over to the family group, who were talking. They all looked upset except Ace. That devil was suppressing a grin.

“Oh, shut up!” she snapped at Ace.

“I didn't say anything,” he protested.

“But you were thinking it,” Lynnie said, and turned toward her out-of-town family by marriage. “I'm really sorry, Uncle Trace, that you and Aunt Cimarron came all this way for nothing.” She felt her lip quiver as the enormity of what she'd done swept over her. “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to create so much trouble. . . .”

“Lynnie,” Maverick said, “where you are, there is always trouble. I don't know what your papa and sister are going to say.”

Lynnie sighed. “I have a pretty good idea.”

She saw Trace nudge his errant son sharply in the ribs.

“Uh, I'm sorry you lost your job, Lynnie,” Ace said.

She didn't believe he was sorry at all; he was just sorry she had used him and gotten him into trouble.

“It's all right; I'll find something to do.”

Maverick lifted one child after another into the buggy. “Lynnie, I just don't know what's going to become of you—twenty years old, no husband, no prospects of one, no job, and now your reputation is ruined.”

Trace glanced at his son again, but Ace only glared at Lynnie. Evidently, he didn't know how to deal with women who could start trouble on their own.

“I've already decided my future,” she said matter-of-factly as she leaned on the buggy wheel, “Up to now, I've been spending only a little time on the crusade for women's rights, but now I can give it my full attention.”

Everyone groaned aloud, but she ignored them.

“Lynnie,” said Aunt Cimarron, “I'm sorry we couldn't help.” She hugged Lynnie.

“You did your best,” Lynnie said.

“I'm going to have a barbecue next month in your honor,” Auntie said.

“That's nice.” Lynnie was only half listening, already planning her next move in the great crusade. Maybe she could start a newspaper or, better yet, lead the few liberated women she knew to picket the local newspaper.

“Maverick,” Uncle Trace said as they shook hands, “give some thought to coming on that cattle drive.”

Maverick nodded. “I'm in. Sounds like old times.”

While everyone continued to talk, Lynnie lifted her skirts to get into the buggy. After a moment's hesitation, Ace sauntered over reluctantly and offered his hand in assistance.

“I don't need your help,” she said, and got in by herself.

“I was tryin' to act like a gentleman,” Ace said.

“A gentleman?” Lynnie snorted. “Everyone knows all you can think of is getting a girl's drawers off.”

“Not yours.” In the moonlight, she could see he was so annoyed, his nostrils flared.

The family crowd was breaking up; Maverick was bringing over more children to pile into the buggy. They all waved good-bye. Maverick slapped the horse with the reins, and the buggy pulled away. When she glanced back, her uncle and aunt had turned toward their buggy, but Ace was grinning at her as if pleased she'd gotten what she deserved. She forgot she was a dignified representative of women's rights. She did what she had done years ago when the brute had annoyed her: she stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her eyes.

“I hope your face freezes that way!” he yelled at her.

Maverick glanced sideways at Lynnie. “What was that about?”

She gave her brother-in-law her most innocent look. “I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea. You know what an uncivilized oaf Ace Durango is. I pity the poor, downtrodden girl who gets stuck with him!”

 

 

Cimarron sipped her coffee and nodded to her husband as he came in from the barn and threw his Stetson up on the coatrack. “Hey,” he yelled, “I could use some coffee out here!”

“Keep your shirt on.” Cookie limped out of the kitchen and slammed the pot down. “You could get it yourself; I got a cake in the oven.” He turned and limped back into the kitchen.

“What happened to Juanita?” Trace poured himself a cup and made a wry face as he tasted it.

“Another cousin's having a baby,” Cimarron murmured, and returned to the list she was working on.

“I ought to fire that old bastard,” Trace grumbled, “for being so uppity, and besides, he's a lousy cook.”

“I heerd that!” Cookie yelled from the kitchen.

Cimarron rolled her eyes. “Trace, you know better than that. The old don would turn over in his grave if you fired Cookie. He's been here since you were a kid, cooking on the cattle drives.”

“And he's poisoned hundreds of good cowboys.” Trace yelled toward the kitchen, “Did you hear that?”

“Oh, hush up.” The grizzled cook stuck his head out the kitchen door, “You'll cause my cake to fall.”

“Won't make it taste any worse,” Trace said.

“I'll see you don't get none.” Cookie disappeared behind the door.

“That's a relief,” Trace muttered.

“Shame on you. Now you've hurt his feelings,” Cimarron said.

“The old rattlesnake doesn't have any.” Trace sipped his coffee and shuddered, looking around. “Where's our lazy son? It's past dawn; day's half gone.”

“Nobody should have to get out of bed this early.” Ace stumbled into the dining room, yawning and wiping his eyes.

“Just getting up?” his father grumbled, “I've been up two hours.”

Ace sighed. “I know, Dad, you're always up with the chickens, but then, you weren't playin' cards last night.”

Trace frowned, and Cimarron rushed in to stop the fuss before it started. “Did you win, son?”

Ace took a chair, grinning. “Took Willis Forrester for a couple of thousand.” He surveyed his father's cup and frowned. “Not again. Cookie,” he yelled, “can I get some coffee out here?”

“I only got two hands!” the old man hollered from the kitchen. “Can't you Durangos do anything for yourselves?”

“You ought to fire that old bastard,” Ace grumbled as he got up and retrieved a cup from the sideboard.

“I heerd that!” the old man yelled from the kitchen.

Trace smiled, evidently in a better mood because a Durango had won over a Forrester again. The Forresters headquartered in Austin and weren't too fussy about how they acquired land and money. He leaned back in his chair and said “Son, I want you to help Pedro and me bring in that herd from the south forty today.”

“Today? It's colder than a witch's ti—”

“Don't use that word in front of your mother!” Trace snapped. “You think I don't know it's cold? Hell, I've been out in it since before sunrise.”

Cimarron moved to diffuse the tension between the two. “Now, Ace, dear, you are, after all, a rancher. It won't kill you to help Dad with a few cattle.”