She’d capitulated to his wildly exciting kisses as easily as if she were indeed the woman of low character that most people assumed she was. She hadn’t uttered a peep of protest. The instant she felt his desire for her, her mind and body had caught fire with an answering passion.
With a sigh, she wondered how long she would have to pay for a long-ago mistake. How many years would it take before people stopped treating her as if she’d spent time in a brothel? But maybe she deserved censure. Dal Frisco had taken her in his arms and without a moment’s hesitation she had flung herself against his body and behaved as if she hadn’t an ounce of morality. Like she was perfectly willing to take those wild kisses to their ultimate destination.
And, oh God, she had been. That’s what hurt. His touch, his mouth, his hands had inflamed her to the point of craziness, of wanting him so much that she was dizzy and breathless and unaware of anything but him. Nothing even close to such a thing had ever happened to her.
She wished she never had to see Dal Frisco again.
Chapter 13
By the time the herd reached the Colorado River just north of Austin, Les had driven the stragglers through enough spring-swollen creeks that the Colorado didn’t worry her. The only difference with this crossing was that the river was broader and deep enough that the men had to take the wheels off the chuck wagon and float it across.
Les rode forward to watch. She stayed out of the way, but was close enough to see how white Alex’s face was when she finally drew a deep breath, then flapped her reins across the mules’ backs. The mules started across the river, pulling the wagon behind them like a raft while Dal and four other drovers strained on the shore, playing out a rope tied to the back of the wagon to keep it from turning in the current.
Unconsciously holding her breath, Les struggled to guess what Alex was thinking and feeling, tried to imagine the courage and trust it must take for her sister to enter the swiftly moving water. Les didn’t think she would have been that brave.
Though she hadn’t told them, she was developing a grudging admiration for both of her sisters. She had seen Alex dishing out food with tears glittering in her eyes, but the meal was always ready. Twice now firewood had been impossible to find, and she had glimpsed Alex rolling her wheelchair on the range, forking up dried cow pies to burn. And Alex, being Alex, brought her own standards to the ordeal. She insisted on the men using napkins, and it had been Alex who demanded a latrine tent for herself and Les and Freddy.
And Freddy. Freddy set the pace on the drag, relentlessly nudging the stragglers along even when she and Les had been awake half the night working a stampede. If Freddy hadn’t made the first cut when skinning the dead steers, those steers would still be lying on the range. And it was Freddy who sat around the fire with the other drovers, drinking coffee, laughing at their tall tales and sly jokes. Freddy who had learned all the verses to the cowboy songs. Freddy who kept practicing with her rope and gun, who had given the stragglers silly names that made Les laugh.
Once Alex made it safely across the Colorado, Les rode back to the main herd, grazing about a mile from the river. But she continued to think about Freddy.
From the time Freddy had begun to blossom, at about age fourteen, men had flocked around her. It was still happening even though Freddy had thrown away her reputation. Learning about Freddy seeing Caldwell had shocked Les, but hadn’t surprised her, as she’d noticed how Caldwell always seemed to be watching her sister. And Dal Frisco, too. Both men stood straighter when Freddy appeared, and a hot speculative look narrowed their eyes. Unconsciously, they became more of what they were. More virile, more handsome, more masculine. Around Freddy, Caldwell seemed sleeker, more casually elegant. Frisco became more rugged, more commanding.
Les didn’t understand this. In the past, she had condemned Freddy for leading men on, but now that she could observe closely, she had to admit this was not true. Freddy didn’t flirt, didn’t carry herself differently in a man’s presence, didn’t behave differently. If anything, she behaved as if she detested Caldwell and didn’t trust Frisco. Yet both men watched her with an expression that burned. And when Dal and Freddy were together, something sizzled in the air, as if a violent lightning storm were about to erupt.