Chapter 32
“Stop?” She jerked her hands out of his grasp. She slapped his chest with the flat of her hand and stared at him in frustrated fury. “You want to stop . . . now?”
“No. What I mean is—”
She slapped his chest again, and then leaped to her feet. “I’m through here. I’m going back to Texas. I’ve had enough of the craziness of Indian Territory. And you.”
She turned her back on him, crossed her arms over her stomach, and burst into tears. And that made her feel even worse. She was trying to be brave and strong and decisive. Now she looked like a weak-willed ninny. She didn’t even carry a real revolver like a scary Colt .45. No, she’d let them foist a little .32 on her like the novice she was, and she’d been pleased as punch. A fresh flow of tears ran down her cheeks.
She wheeled around to face him, stomped her boot, and unbuckled her gun-belt. “And I’m not wearing this stupid baby gun a moment longer.”
“What?”
“I bet you’ve been laughing at me since the moment I strapped it around my waist.”
“Why?”
She shook the .32 in its holster at his face, and then threw it on the ground at his feet. The revolver went off, a bullet narrowly missing his boot while the sound ricocheted off the canyon walls. They both leaped back and the horses shied away.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lucky picked up the revolver, smoke curling from the open end of its leather holster. “You almost shot off my foot.”
“Do you think it might have done that much damage?”
“Yes! No need to sound proud that you almost maimed me.”
“I didn’t realize it had that much firepower.”
“Of course it does. It’s a lethal weapon.”
“It looks like a baby compared to your .45.”
“What the hell does this have to do with . . . do you want to trade guns or something?”
She cocked her head, sniffed loudly, and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. One thing for sure, the crack of the .32 had scared the tears right out of her eyes. “You’d wear a .32?”
“I’ve got one in my saddlebags right now. Plus a derringer and three Colt .45s.”
“Why on earth do you need so many guns?”
“I’ve got six shots in a revolver. Do you know how long it can take to reload?”
She shook her head, having no idea.
“If it’s one against many, it takes too damn long.” He gave her a hard look. “Back in the War Between the States, a partisan ranger had four or five .44s and several bowie knives on his body at all times.”
“He must have rattled when he walked.”
“He rode. And he fought until he died or the war was lost.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice of me. My daddy died in that long, bloody war.”
“We all lost people close to us.”
“I’d better apologize for throwing down my gun, too.”
“You’re tired, frustrated, and hungry. So am I.”
“That’s true.” She wanted to put her weakness behind her and forget about her tears. “Let’s eat.”
“I’ll gather some wood and build a fire.”
It didn’t take her long to spread the blankets and set out their meager fare of jerky, cheese, crackers, and canteens of water. He had a campfire blazing in no time.
After she sat down, he settled across from her, as if he thought it best to keep his distance. He took off his gun-belt, but kept both revolvers within easy reach. She wondered if she’d ever get her .32 back, but she wasn’t going to ask for it. She did feel mollified that it could do more damage than she’d thought, so perhaps it wasn’t so embarrassing after all.
“I wish we’d had a chance to eat at Burnt Boggy.” She bit into a piece of cheese and followed it with a dry cracker.
“A steaming bowl of beef and beans would’ve tasted good.”
“Even better, I wish we could eat at Mama Lou’s.”
“Don’t even mention it.”
When silence descended between them, she didn’t try to break it. She was still embarrassed over her outburst. She felt as if all her senses were heightened. And the place over her heart tingled, so she absently rubbed it. She sighed, wondering if her life would ever get back to normal, or even near normal.
“What is it?”
“I’m usually a lot more dependable. I don’t know what’s come over me.”
“I do.”
“Really?”
“It’s partly my fault. But you’ve had a lot of shocks, too.”
“I hope I don’t see another rattlesnake up that close.”
He chuckled. “Too close for comfort?”
“Too close for anything.”
“Remember when I told you that I’d give you a wedding night?”
“It seems like a long time ago, but yes.”
“I’d like to marry you first.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat, and then she took a great gulp of air. “Let’s see. I met you a few days ago. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No justice of the peace or minister is in sight. That’s easy to say when you know it’s impossible.”
“If we could get married, would you marry me?”
“You don’t need to marry me to get full milking rights to this cow.”
“Don’t belittle yourself.”
“Then don’t ask stupid questions.”
“How would you feel about spending the rest of your life with me?”
“I don’t even know you.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“And I’m trying to have a wedding night. Is there something wrong with me that I can’t get any man to spread my thighs and ram it home?”
“Crude doesn’t become you.”
“Virginity doesn’t become me, either.” She clenched her fists in frustration. “I guess I’m just going to have to get a smooth stick or a piece of fruit like a banana. If I wait much longer on a man, I’ll be dead.”
“That’d be an unnecessary waste.”
“For me, yes.”
“Me, too.”
“Lucky, I can’t take any more tonight. My nerves are jangled. I’m going to roll up in my blanket and get some sleep.”
“No, you’re not.”
“And why not?”
“I’ve got something much better in mind.”