“In this matter I’ve always been a gentleman. Will you stand the hell still and listen a minute?” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her hard against him. “Listen to me. What I just did was wrong.”
She would have slapped him, but he caught her wrist. “If you tell me this didn’t mean anything, I swear I’ll…” She wasn’t even sure if she was experienced now or still a virgin. She suspected one deep thrust was enough to ruin her, but she wasn’t certain. Either way, the whole thing was a disappointment. Much ado about nothing.
He smothered her threat with a kiss that infuriated her because it ignited the heat again and the wild frustration she had felt when he rolled away from her.
“We are going to do this again, and the next time we’re going to do it right,” he said grimly, staring down into her eyes. “Not on the ground. Not half-dressed. Not fast.”
“The hell we are,” she snapped, jerking away from him, reaching deep to locate some pride. “Now you listen. I’ve been wondering about this event for years, and let me tell you something.” She thrust out her chin and pulled back her shoulders. “It isn’t much. A woman might do this once to satisfy her curiosity or because she had to, but no woman would do it twice. So you can forget any repeat performance!”
He swore and dropped his head back to look at the sky. “See? That’s exactly what I was afraid of. When a man makes this kind of mistake, he can wreck a woman. Son of a bitch!”
Finally, she stumbled over her boots but didn’t bother taking the time to pull them on. “I saw Les almost dying and I kept thinking, what if that was me? It could have been. And what if I died without ever knowing…” She spread her hands, the boots swinging in a wide arc. “For several years everyone I know has condemned me for ruining myself. The respectable women in Klees wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t call on me or accept my calls.” Tears choked her. “But I hadn’t done anything. Nothing worse than acting some lines onstage. Then you come along and… I just… I decided I might as well do what everyone thinks I’ve done anyway.”
“This is my fault. I knew you were exhausted. I shouldn’t have trusted a decision made when you’re this tired,” he said, staring at her. Behind him the sky was beginning to brighten.
“You’re wrong. This happened because I was doing what I always do, picking the son of a bitch in the crowd.” Disgust twisted her lips, and her voice sank to a whisper. “You’re like everyone else. When you rolled away, I felt like something you didn’t want to touch, like something dirty and unpleasant. But you got what you wanted. I’m not sure what I got.”
“Good God! Freddy—”
But she didn’t stay to hear any more. Humiliated, frustrated, and hurting inside, she ran toward her bedroll and, when she reached it, rolled up tight in her blankets and pressed her face into the pile of folded clothing she used as a pillow.
Everything she had told him was true, but the reasons for wanting to surrender to him no longer made sense. She couldn’t recall why she had decided it had to be him or what had made her impulsively decide that it had to happen tonight. It was just that Dal Frisco did things to her mind and body that no man had done before. She had experienced flashes of desire, but not to the point where she could hardly think of anything else. She’d always been able to control herself.
Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the fading stars. Well, at least she knew now. The mystery of sex was solved, and if she died on this cattle drive, she wouldn’t die a virgin.
But she’d never felt as disappointed in her life. Somehow, she’d expected… more.
Dal had planned to rest the herd outside Waco, but now he was in a hurry to reach Fort Worth. Waco had only one shabby hotel, and he guessed that Lola would stay there. A shabby room and the chance of encountering Lola didn’t serve his purpose on any level.
Instead of grazing out the herd and giving the hands a visit to town, he swam the steers across the muddy, reddish Brazos River and headed north, in a bad mood every step of the way.
As part of his responsibility, he rode circle on the herd several times a day. A good trail boss rode approximately four times the distance the cattle would travel. He needed to know that he wasn’t pushing the beeves so hard that any went lame or developed cracked hooves. And it was his job not to wear out the remuda and bust up the horses by working them too hard. This was part of what he watched for while he rode circle. The state of the animals, the effectiveness of his drovers, the condition of the grass and ground they covered. And Freddy.