CHAPTER 9
Denny liked to think she was grown up and knew how to keep her emotions under control, but when she saw her parents, she suddenly felt like a little girl again. It was wonderful to hug her mother, to have her father pat her gently on the back. She felt her eyes growing damp with tears of happiness and tried to banish them.
Then Louis came down the steps from the railroad car and said with a grin, “Let me in on that.”
Sheriff Monte Carson gravely shook hands with Denny and said, “Welcome home, Denise.”
Louis Longmont wasn’t satisfied with that. He took Denny’s hand, bent over it, and pressed his lips to the back of it. “I always knew you would grow up to be a beautiful woman, Denise,” he said as he straightened. “I see I was right. I couldn’t be prouder of you if you were my own niece.”
“Thank you, Mr. Longmont.”
He waved a carefully manicured hand. “You’re old enough to call me Louis now.”
“Then I might get you confused with my brother. He’s Louis, too, you know.”
“Of course.” The gambler smiled. “All right, then, Mr. Longmont it is.”
Sally said, “We’re having a big dinner out at the ranch tonight to welcome the children home. You and your wife should come, Monte, and you, too, Louis. You’re all invited.”
“We’ll be there,” the sheriff promised, and Longmont nodded his agreement as well.
Smoke started herding them toward the station lobby. “Let’s go. They’ll have the bags loaded pretty soon, and then we can head for the Sugarloaf. It’ll sure be good to have you kids home.”
“It’s good to be home,” Louis said.
“And you’re really here to stay this time?” Sally said as she linked her arm with her son’s.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re here to stay,” Louis said. “How about you, Denny?”
“As much as I appreciate everything Grandmother and Grandfather Reynolds did for us, I’m a Western girl,” Denny declared. “Reckon I always will be.”
“Denny?” Sally repeated. “Louis called you Denny?”
“That’s right. Denise Nicole sounds too formal. Pa used to call me Denny when I was a little girl.”
Smoke grinned. “I sure did.”
“Anyway, I like it,” Denny said.
“I suppose I can get used to it.” Sally looked at her son. “Are we supposed to call you Louie now?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Louis said.
That brought a hearty laugh from Smoke as he slapped Louis on the back. “Come on, son.”
* * *
The Brown Dirt Cowboy was open for business, but there wouldn’t be much of it until later in the day. At the moment, only two customers were inside, and one of them was passed out facedown at one of the tables, snoring blissfully with his cheek in a little puddle of spilled beer.
The other customer was Haystack Gunderson, who stood at the bar talking to the buxom soiled dove called Cindy.
“No, damn it. I don’t want to go upstairs, Haystack,” she said in response to his plea. “It’s too early! Hell, I’ve only had one cup of coffee. I’m barely awake. I should still be asleep at this unholy hour. I’m only down here because Claude likes to have at least one girl around all the time.”
“But that’s why you’re here,” Haystack insisted. “To work, yah?”
“No, I’m here so any fellas who come in lookin’ for a little hair of the dog will have somethin’ pretty to look at.” She gave his broad chest a push as he leaned closer to her on the stool where she sat. “Now you go on and get outta here. Claude said you and your brother weren’t allowed in here for a week after all the hell you raised yesterday, and if he wasn’t asleep you never would’ve made it through the door. Git!”
“I will not,” Haystack declared stolidly. “Not until I have spent time with the girl I love—”
The batwings slammed open. Work boots thudded loudly on the floor as the broad, towering figure of Arno Gunderson stomped into the saloon. “Ingborg!” he shouted at his brother. “When I saw you bane gone, I knew where you’d sneaked off to! You bane go behind my back with Cindy, yah?”
Haystack thumped a big fist against his chest and bellowed, “Cindy is my girl !”
Arno sneered. “That’s not what she told me the last time I was with her!”
“Not again!” Cindy wailed.
Haystack lowered his head, roared in outrage, and charged like a maddened bull. The brothers crashed together with such force the floor practically shook. Haystack had built up enough steam to drive Arno backwards through the batwings. As they grappled, they stumbled across the boardwalk and then fell into the street. They rolled over a couple times and then surged to their feet, dust-covered giants whaling away at each other with hamlike fists.
Caught up in the heat of battle, the two men paid no attention to their surroundings. Arno sent a straight right to his brother’s jaw that landed with such power Haystack was thrown back against a team of four horses hitched to a wagon parked at the edge of the street.
The collision spooked the animals. One of the leaders let out a shrill whinny and lunged against its harness. The other horses followed suit. As the wagon jerked forward, its front corner clipped Haystack and spun him off his feet. He barely avoided being run over by the wheels as the team stampeded down the street toward the train station.
Directly in their path, a woman was crossing the street with two small children, a boy and a girl, each holding one of the woman’s hands. At the sight of the crazed team barreling toward them, her scream shattered the peaceful morning. She broke into a run, tugging the children with her.
One hand slipped, though, leaving the little girl crying and frozen in the path of the stampeding horses and the bouncing, rattling wagon.
Denny and the others had angled toward one of the boardwalks as they left the depot, but they hadn’t gone far when the commotion broke out. She heard the scream, looked toward the center of the street, and saw the little girl standing there while the child’s mother hesitated, unsure what to do.
Denny didn’t wait. Instinct took over. The high-buttoned shoes she wore under her traveling outfit weren’t really made for running, but that didn’t stop her from lifting her skirt and flashing out into the street. She thought she could grab the little girl and get her out of the path of the runaway team.
She was only halfway there when somebody tackled her.
Denny went down hard in the dirt. The impact knocked the breath out of her and left her stunned. All she could do was lift her head and watch as the man who had knocked her down scrambled back to his feet and practically flung himself toward the child. He reached out, plucked the girl from the ground, pulled her against him as he landed on his shoulder and rolled.
The slashing, iron-shod hooves missed them by inches.
The team was still stampeding. Although breathless, Denny forced herself to her feet and took a couple quick steps as the wagon rocketed past her. She leaped and caught hold of the tailgate. She thought she heard someone shouting at her, but she ignored it and concentrated on pulling herself up. Finally, she managed to hook a foot over the tailgate.
That allowed her to lever herself up and over, into the wagon bed. The vehicle was empty. On hands and knees she crawled forward, muttering to herself about how it would have been a lot easier and quicker if she’d been wearing pants. She climbed over the back of the seat, grabbed the reins where they had looped around part of the wagon’s frame, and hauled back on the lines as she braced her feet against the floorboards. “Whoa!” she called to the horses. “Whoa there, you crazy varmints!”
As the team slowed a crazy thought crossed her mind. What would they have thought of her back in England or on the continent if they could see her now? A tight smile curve her lips as she sawed on the reins and the spooked team finally came to a halt.
Hearing shouts behind her, she turned on the seat and looked back along the street. Her mother, father, and brother were hurrying toward her, followed by Louis Longmont. Farther up the street, Sheriff Carson was haranguing the two big, sheepish-looking men who had stampeded the wagon team. A few yards from them, a man in a buckskin shirt handed the sobbing little girl to her equally distraught mother while the little boy clung to the woman’s skirts.
“Denise Nicole!” Sally Jensen cried as she ran up to the wagon. “What in the world were you thinking?”
“That someone had to get that little girl out of the way of those horses before they trampled her, of course,” Denny answered as she lifted a hand and pushed her hair out of her eyes. That made her aware her hat was gone and her hair had come loose from its pins and fallen around her face and shoulders. She didn’t care about that. A toss of her head got it out of the way.
“Your father could have—”
“Denny reacted faster than I did,” Smoke said. “In fact, that was pretty fast for anybody.”
Denny jumped down from the wagon. “Yes, and I would have gotten there in time if somebody hadn’t interfered with me.” She stalked past her parents and headed for the man who had tackled her.
“Denise!” Sally said.
“You’d better let her go, Mother,” Louis advised. “She’s got blood in her eye, and when she looks like that there’s no stopping her.”
Denny thought she heard her father chuckle at that comment, but she wasn’t sure. Then she was out of earshot and she didn’t care anymore. She was about to confront the man who had come out of nowhere to knock her down. He had just bent over, picked up his hat from the street, and started to swat it against his leg to get some of the dust off it.
Denny grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around. “Hey! What the hell did you think you were doing?”