To Tempt A Texan. Georgina Gentry

Blackie grinned and touched the brim of his hat in salute. “I’ll see you in Guthrie—if you can find a way to get there.”

      He turned and sauntered away to where his horse grazed on the grass at the edge of the dirt main street. Lively, the bloodhound, had lain down next to the horse and dropped off to sleep, which was always what Lively did best. This stubborn gal wasn’t going to be any problem after all. Just like most women, she couldn’t play when the stakes were high, she didn’t have the brains or the cunning, even if she was a Texas gal.

      Blackie mounted up and turned his stallion north. The chestnut took two halting steps. Immediately, Blackie dismounted, everything else forgotten in his concern for his horse. “What’s the matter, boy? Hurt a hoof in that fall?”

      After a moment’s inspection, he decided the stallion was temporarily lame. What to do? He hailed a passing freckle-faced boy. “Hey, sonny, if I pay you, you reckon you could find my horse some water and some good hay? I need someone to look after him until I get back.”

      The boy nodded. “Sure thing, Mister.”

      Blackie wiped his sweating face. He’d like a cold drink himself. “Any place I can rent a horse around here?”

      The boy shook his head as he took the chestnut’s reins. “My folks came with a team of oxen pullin’ our wagon. There ain’t a spare horse in the entire camp.”

      “We’ll see about that. I’ll be back for my horse later.” Blackie loved a challenge. Followed by the lazy hound, Blackie started down the dusty street, stopping to ask about renting a horse. The boy had been right; there wasn’t a spare horse or a fresh one in the settlement. Finally a cowboy pointed out a makeshift shack down the road. “I think Clem might have a horse and rig he’d rent out.”

      “Much obliged.” Blackie grinned and started down the road. His luck was running good, as usual. By tonight, he’d be the legal owner of that choice lot and have the new saloon under construction by the time Moose, his bartender, and Flo and her girls arrived.

      Lacey watched the Texan saunter away, furious with his confidence. Why, he was like a rooster that thought the sun came up in the morning because he crowed. Since he was a man and a Texan, naturally he thought he’d already bested her. Outrageous. Well, she wasn’t ready to yell “calf rope” yet; the Texas term for “surrender.” She ran to the temporary depot and saw that Isaac, her printer, was unloading the equipment and the crate with Precious in it. “There’s been a hitch,” she said to the short, balding man. “I’ll take Precious with me because you will be too busy to look after her. You see if you can find a temporary place to set up our offices.”

      He paused in unloading the boxes and said in his thick foreign accent. “You didn’t get a claim, yes?”

      Lacey sighed. “Sort of. If I can get to Guthrie in time to file it.”

      “Whatever I can do to help, Miss Lacey, for you, anything.”

      “I’m much obliged, Isaac.” Her mind was already busy. Damned if she was going to let that rogue gambler best her, but she’d seen he had a good horse.

      She grabbed the cat carrier and the white Persian meowed in protest. “Now, Precious, dear, I know things are hectic, but when we get to Guthrie, I’ll get you some food.”

      How was she going to get to Guthrie? There seemed to be hundreds of people milling about or brushing past her, all intent on their own business. “It might be just dusty shacks now, but it can be a perfect town; and I’ll help mold it.”

      The train had pulled out while she was arguing with that cheap tinhorn. Maybe she could rent a mount instead. Lacey started asking up and down the street. There were no horses available. She couldn’t let that gambler claim that prize lot. Why, it was right downtown and a perfect place for her newspaper office. She’d been elected president of the Ladies’ Temperance Association because she was so resourceful. Where had the Texas tinhorn gone? She’d lost sight of the rogue. Maybe he was already on his way to Guthrie. Well, she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.

      As she trudged along carrying her indignant cat, Lacey passed a horse trough and stared down at her reflection. My word. No wonder she hadn’t made any impression on that silver-tongued devil, she looked like she’d been dragged around under the porch by hound dogs. Lacey always kept her appearance perfect. Now she couldn’t even wash her face. Oh, the horror of being dirty. “First things first, Lacey,” she reminded herself. She dipped a palm in the water to give Precious a drink. Still carrying her cat cage, she stopped a passing army sergeant. “Sir, do you know of any way to get to Guthrie?”

      He smiled, touched the brim of his hat. “Why, ma’am, there’s a train tomorrow.”

      She felt tears of frustration gather in her dark eyes. “I can’t wait until tomorrow, I’m trying to file a claim.”

      Immediately, his ruddy face turned sympathetic. “Tough for a little lady in this big world, huh?”

      She resisted the urge to give him a good kick between the thighs. Instead, she let the tears run down her cheeks. “It certainly is, sir, and a helpless woman like poor little me just doesn’t know what to do next.”

      He chewed his lip then pointed. “See that corral over there with the new barn? It delivers supplies up to Guthrie for the army. Maybe he’d rent you a rig or something.”

      “Oh, Captain,” she sighed and fluttered her eyelashes, “you’re so wonderful.”

      “I’m a sergeant, Ma’am, but being’s you’re a gal, I don’t expect you to know the difference.”

      It was a good thing she had left the hammer with Isaac. She managed to grit her teeth and thanked him again, then hurried toward the corral, carrying her cat cage. Inside, the white Persian set up a howl. “Do be quiet, Precious, when we get to Guthrie, I’ll see if I can buy you some fish.”

      She found a lean, weathered man loading crates of squawking chickens on a wagon.

      “I need to get to Guthrie.”

      He laughed and paused, wiping his face with a ragged red bandana. “You and about ten thousand other folks, Ma’am. Even my regular driver has run off to get a land claim. Lucky for me, a gambler who said his horse was lame offered to drive this load of chickens up to Guthrie to feed the troops. I can’t leave to do it.”

      A gambler. She tried to look helpless, although it galled her. “A tall Texan with dark hair? Oh, that’s my husband.” The thought made her shudder.

      He nodded. “Why didn’t you say so, Ma’am? He went off to get hisself a drink, said he’d be back about the time I got loaded out.”

      A drink. Of course the rascal was a whiskey-swilling sponge. “You see, there’s been a change of plans. My husband told me to drive your wagon up to Guthrie. He’ll come later.”

      The man looked at her and then at the wagonload of squawking chickens. “I don’t know, ma’am. You ever drive a wagon before?”

      “My word, are you joking? Why, on our farm, I used to drive loads of hay into town all the time.”

      He nodded. “All right then. You see these chickens get to Captain MacArthur, you hear?”

      “I certainly will.” She put her cat cage up on the front seat, clambered up beside it, took the reins. “I’ll get your wagon back to you as soon as the soldiers get it unloaded. Which way to Guthrie?”

      “North. Just follow the road.” He smiled, pointed and stepped back.

      Lacey slapped the reins on the dozing bay horse and started north on the dusty road.

      “Meow!” complained Precious.

      “I’m sorry, kitty,” Lacey said as she urged the horse to step a little faster, “I can’t do anything about you until I get to Guthrie.”

      “Squawk!” said the chickens, “Squawk!