Read Online Heart of the West by Penelope Williamson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Penelope Williamson
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wind-chaffed face. "Surely your Gus must've told you about his brother. They're partners in the Rocking R, each owning half and each tryin' to run it like he owned the whole shebang. Bets are on in Rainbow Springs as to how long it's going to last. Nope, there ain't two more different snowflakes than Gus McQueen and Zach Rafferty."
Not a word of it. He hadn't told her a word of this. Only yesterday he had accused her of having a jaw as tight as a beaver trap because she found it so hard to share her thoughts and feelings. But he had been keeping secrets of his own. So many times he had described his ranch in dream words—the meadows of sweet grass and wildflowers ringed by surging buttes and tall, timbered ridges. Not once had he mentioned that he shared the ownership of all that with a brother.
So many wonderings arose within her: whether this brother was younger or older than Gus, and why they didn't share the same name. But it was her husband's place to tell her these things. To discuss him and his brother behind his back was a disloyal thing, what her mother would call perfidious gossip. She decided not to say another word and let Nickel Annie stew in the silence.
The wagon's big hickory axle creaked; the iron tires crunched over the rocky ground; the wind whirled. Clementine cleared her throat. "In what way are the brothers different?"
Nickel Annie's grin pleated her leathery face. She sent another brown stream splatting onto the wagon tongue and settled her shoulders for a long gab. "To begin with, Gus spent his boyhood with his ma, getting an East Coast shine on him, while Rafferty was rawhiding around rough country, growing up wild as a corncrib rat. I suppose you could say Gus's been tamed and Rafferty ain't.
"And then there's Rafferty's sinnin' ways, which Gus can't abide. The drinkin' and the gamblin' and the whoring—especially the whoring. 'Course that might've just been jealousy workin' through Gus's guts. Mebbe it explains why he up and married you, him bein' a man for all his righteous ways, and men always do tend to end up thinking with their tallywhackers. And genu-ine ladies like you are as scarce out here as sunflowers in January."
Clementine supposed she was being complimented. Or maybe not. People out here, she was learning, took a perverse pride in their rough edges, flaunting them like medals. "Thank you," she said, a bit stiffly.
"You're welcome. Out here, you see, women're either whores or they're like me, thinking that all men are snakes and seein' no sense in bedding down with a snake. Which is why all the cowpunchers and sheep-coddlers, all the wolvers and dirt-grubbers—hell, you name it, they're all gonna come riding from miles around just to eyeball you, you bein' such a rarity. There ain't a man out here who wouldn't give his left ballock to be gettin' the cook, housekeeper, laundress, and all-round slave that you're gonna be to your man. Yup, slave and broodmare and bedmate all done up in the starchy trappings of an honest-to-God lady—Christ, the wonder of it stretches the mind." She hooted a laugh. "Dearie, you ain't only a rarity, you're a damned luxury!"
Annie paused, and the whining wind immediately rose up to fill the silence. One of the mules flapped its ears and let out a snort, but Clementine held herself still. I will not let her provoke me, she vowed. There was grit in her heart and she would prove it.
"Nope," the skinner went on with an exaggerated sigh. "Rafferty sure ain't gonna like findin' out his brother brought hisself back a wife with notions to go and civilize things. But Gus is the one comin' in for the real surprise."
"What do you mean?" Clementine asked in spite of herself.
Nickel Annie leaned so close that the stink of her tobacco breath washed over Clementine's face. "You, Mrs. McQueen. Ye're the surprise. 'Cause underneath that goody-goody shy-and-sweet air you wear on the skin side is a hot-blooded woman just waitin' for an excuse to bust out. Only
Not a word of it. He hadn't told her a word of this. Only yesterday he had accused her of having a jaw as tight as a beaver trap because she found it so hard to share her thoughts and feelings. But he had been keeping secrets of his own. So many times he had described his ranch in dream words—the meadows of sweet grass and wildflowers ringed by surging buttes and tall, timbered ridges. Not once had he mentioned that he shared the ownership of all that with a brother.
So many wonderings arose within her: whether this brother was younger or older than Gus, and why they didn't share the same name. But it was her husband's place to tell her these things. To discuss him and his brother behind his back was a disloyal thing, what her mother would call perfidious gossip. She decided not to say another word and let Nickel Annie stew in the silence.
The wagon's big hickory axle creaked; the iron tires crunched over the rocky ground; the wind whirled. Clementine cleared her throat. "In what way are the brothers different?"
Nickel Annie's grin pleated her leathery face. She sent another brown stream splatting onto the wagon tongue and settled her shoulders for a long gab. "To begin with, Gus spent his boyhood with his ma, getting an East Coast shine on him, while Rafferty was rawhiding around rough country, growing up wild as a corncrib rat. I suppose you could say Gus's been tamed and Rafferty ain't.
"And then there's Rafferty's sinnin' ways, which Gus can't abide. The drinkin' and the gamblin' and the whoring—especially the whoring. 'Course that might've just been jealousy workin' through Gus's guts. Mebbe it explains why he up and married you, him bein' a man for all his righteous ways, and men always do tend to end up thinking with their tallywhackers. And genu-ine ladies like you are as scarce out here as sunflowers in January."
Clementine supposed she was being complimented. Or maybe not. People out here, she was learning, took a perverse pride in their rough edges, flaunting them like medals. "Thank you," she said, a bit stiffly.
"You're welcome. Out here, you see, women're either whores or they're like me, thinking that all men are snakes and seein' no sense in bedding down with a snake. Which is why all the cowpunchers and sheep-coddlers, all the wolvers and dirt-grubbers—hell, you name it, they're all gonna come riding from miles around just to eyeball you, you bein' such a rarity. There ain't a man out here who wouldn't give his left ballock to be gettin' the cook, housekeeper, laundress, and all-round slave that you're gonna be to your man. Yup, slave and broodmare and bedmate all done up in the starchy trappings of an honest-to-God lady—Christ, the wonder of it stretches the mind." She hooted a laugh. "Dearie, you ain't only a rarity, you're a damned luxury!"
Annie paused, and the whining wind immediately rose up to fill the silence. One of the mules flapped its ears and let out a snort, but Clementine held herself still. I will not let her provoke me, she vowed. There was grit in her heart and she would prove it.
"Nope," the skinner went on with an exaggerated sigh. "Rafferty sure ain't gonna like findin' out his brother brought hisself back a wife with notions to go and civilize things. But Gus is the one comin' in for the real surprise."
"What do you mean?" Clementine asked in spite of herself.
Nickel Annie leaned so close that the stink of her tobacco breath washed over Clementine's face. "You, Mrs. McQueen. Ye're the surprise. 'Cause underneath that goody-goody shy-and-sweet air you wear on the skin side is a hot-blooded woman just waitin' for an excuse to bust out. Only
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