To Tempt A Texan. Georgina Gentry

      Chapter Two

      The town of Guthrie was bigger and more disorganized than the one she’d just left. There must be ten thousand people roaming about the prairie, setting up tents, unloading wagons. The afternoon air rang with shouts and the sound of hammers banging together shabby shacks. Somewhere a dog barked and a baby cried. People pushed past each other in the disarray, and new arrivals clogged the dusty road. She hated the confusion since she liked everything orderly and perfect, but then, this was an unusual and exceptional day. She couldn’t even wash her face or comb her hair; she couldn’t spare the time. Tomorrow when she got her land claim filed, she’d get her life straight and print the first edition of her newspaper.

      Precious had finally stopped yowling but the chickens still squawked and here and there folks turned to grin and stare. She felt very conspicuous and tried not to notice the pointing fingers and the dog still walking alongside her wagon, looking up at her, tongue lolling. The dog must be tired. “Here, hop up, what’s your name? Oh, yes, Lively.”

      When she snapped her fingers, the bloodhound jumped up in the wagon next to her and tried to lick her face. “You’re as bad as your master,” she complained. “Are you always so familiar with ladies you don’t know?”

      In answer, the dog settled down next to her and dropped off to sleep.

      She thought of the gambler with grim satisfaction. Served him right. He’d probably always had his way with women and had never met one crafty enough to beat him at his own game. She’d get her claim filed and then deliver the chickens to the army. “Hey,” she yelled at a young boy who stared at her moving menagerie, “where’s the land office?”

      He pointed wordlessly and Lacey drove up that street. She found the shack with a board hanging across the front proclaiming “Land Office.” There was a long line of men out front, but no women. Even though women were allowed to make the run and claim their own land, most wouldn’t have the guts to do it. Around her wagon in the swirling dust, people came and went in mass confusion. There were settlers in canvas-covered wagons, cowboys, soldiers, a few women carrying crying infants. Here and there a dog barked and a mule protested the amount of work along the main street of this raw new town. Ragged tents dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see. It appeared soldiers were attempting to bring a semblance of order, but without much success.

      “At least I’m part of history,” she said to herself, thinking what a good front page story the land rush would be for the first issue of her paper. She hoped Isaac had managed to get the printing press and supplies unloaded. Lacey smiled. She was hot and tired, but triumphant. She’d get her claim registered and then let Blackie O’Neal howl like a wounded coyote about it.

      Lacey tied up her horse at a hitching rail and got down. “Come on, Lively, let’s get in line.”

      The hound’s tail thumped as he joined her in the line before the claim office. The line didn’t seem to be moving very fast. She felt perspiration running down inside her dusty, torn shirtwaist and her lips felt dry. Oh, what she’d give for a drink of water. She looked around. In the confusion of people coming and going, she didn’t see a pump or even any barrels of water. If she stepped out of line, she might not get back in. She did see a horse trough in front of a small store. Lively wandered over and got himself a drink, then came back and dripped water on her shoes. She took the edge of her skirt and gingerly wiped them off. She must look a mess, but she couldn’t do anything about that right now without getting out of line. The line inched forward. At this rate, all these people wouldn’t get processed tonight and would have to come back tomorrow.

      Heads seemed to be turning, looking at her torn blouse and her tangled hair. She tried self-consciously to pull the blouse closed and brush her hair back. She’d always been so persnickety about everything. Lacey liked everything orderly and here she was looking like a rumpled, unmade bed and accompanied by a ridiculous dog with the saddest expression she’d ever seen. Time was too important to waste on her appearance today. “Lively, I hope you’re not as unhappy as you look.”

      The dog’s tail thumped and he lay down nearby and promptly dropped off to sleep. Lively. The name must have been a joke. She craned her neck and peered ahead. The untidy line ahead must be at least a half block long and barely inching forward. Her feet hurt and she felt perspiration running down between her breasts. Ladies never perspired, they glowed, she reminded herself. While thirst was her biggest problem, she was getting a little hungry, too. Oh, she hoped owning her own land was going to be worth what she’d been through to get it. In her mind, she saw that Texas rascal rolling in the dirt and groaning. Yep, she grinned, it was worth it. She wondered if he’d limp on in to Guthrie or give up and go back? Five miles was a long way to walk in cowboy boots. She smiled when she thought about it. Served him right for not being a gentleman and ceding the claim to her.

      Lacey heard titters and guffaws and turned to see where everyone was looking. Blackie O’Neal came up the street sitting on the back of an army wagon, his long legs dangling down. The wagon was loaded with horse manure and it smelled rank when the breeze blew the scent her way. Blackie himself looked like he’d been dragged through a knothole backward, all rumpled and dusty. His suntanned face appeared dark as a thunder cloud.

      Uh-oh. She tried to shrink in line to make herself invisible, but she saw his eyes widen as he seemed to spot her. “Aha! Stop the wagon, driver.”

      Then he was advancing on her in long, angry strides. “Great God Almighty! Thought you’d lose me, did you?”

      “Hey, don’t break into line!” Several men yelled.

      “I’m not breaking into line,” Blackie shouted back as he came up to her. “I’m with her.”

      “No, he’s not!” Lacey protested as the gambler pushed into line beside her.

      The little man behind her cleared his throat. “Stranger, the lady says you’re not with her.”

      Blackie grinned at the little man. “Of course we’re together, little spat between me and the missus, that’s all. See how glad our dog is to see me?”

      Indeed, Lively was gamboling around his feet, wagging his tail with delight and licking Blackie’s hand.

      The other man smiled and nodded. “Me and the wife had a few dust-ups in our lifetime. You been married long?”

      “Married?” Lacey protested. “Why—”

      “Now, sweetheart,” Blackie cooed and took her arm, turning her toward the front of the line, “It just seems like hardly any time at all, don’t it?”

      “One minute would be way too long,” Lacey seethed, “and don’t call me the missus—”

      “Hush your mouth, sister,” he lowered his voice close to her ear so that she felt the warmth of his breath, “or else I’ll tell the nice soldiers about you attackin’ me and leavin’ me on the side of the road. I believe the charge would be assault and battery; maybe attempted murder.”

      “Murder? All I did was knee you in the—”

      “Tsk! Tsk! And you a lady, too.”

      She took a deep breath to control her temper. “Stop reminding me before I do it again.”

      “In front of all these people?” He looked around.

      She was concerned about what other people would think and anyway, as stubborn as the Irishman was, she didn’t think she was able to discourage him.

      “Sweetheart, hold my place and I’ll get a drink.”

      “But—” before she could say anything else, Blackie and his fool dog had sauntered away. Damn him, she’d give anything for a drink of water, but he of course, was thinking of whiskey.

      The line barely moved and she licked her dry lips. Even demon rum would be almost tempting. Then she remembered the humiliation of her wedding day. No, she’d never be that thirsty again.

      In a few minutes, Blackie strolled