To Tempt A Texan. Georgina Gentry

Blackie said, “I’ll go see if I can get some hay and water for the horse and find some amusement. Come on, Lively.” He turned to walk away.

      Lively didn’t move. With a sigh, the dog curled up next to Lacey.

      “You’re stealing my dog,” Blackie said.

      “I didn’t do anything. He just wants to stay with me.”

      “So let him.” Blackie sauntered off.

      “I won’t hold your place in line!” She yelled.

      He turned and winked at her. “Sure you will, sister.” Then he strolled toward the busiest part of town.

      Lacey glared after his broad back as he walked off down the street. The dog was asleep. She looked at the cat again. Could she? She who was so straitlaced and persnickety? “Precious, I hate to do this, but manners call for sharing.”

      Gingerly, she pulled a roasted chicken leg out of the pile in front of the cat and the cat turned annoyed yellow eyes her direction.

      “Now, Precious, don’t be selfish.” Lacey took a deep breath and began to wolf down the chicken. She almost fought the cat for the last piece. She was already cramped and weary from sitting in the dirt, but she wasn’t about to lose her place in line. From somewhere, she heard a tinny piano banging away and a woman’s coarse laughter. No doubt, Blackie O’Neal had just said something amusing. No telling where he’d end up tonight, probably in some whore’s bed. Maybe he’d be so drunk, he’d oversleep in the morning and she’d get her claim filed with no protest. She could only hope.

      Unfortunately, as dawn broke and the settlement began stirring, Blackie returned. She awoke with a start to find him standing by her, blinking as if the bright light hurt his eyes. He carried his hat full of water. “Want a drink?”

      “Out of your hat?” She shuddered.

      “It’s cold.”

      She knew it was a sign of weakness, but she was so thirsty. “Well, maybe just a sip.” She put her face in it and gulped loudly.

      “You sound just like the horse did when he drank.”

      She made a face and pulled back. “The horse drank out of this hat?”

      “Well, he left you some.”

      “Eck.” She made a face and wiped her mouth as he offered the remainder, first to his dog, then to the cat.

      Now Blackie slumped down on a rock and groaned. “I shouldn’t have played cards all night.”

      She had no sympathy for the wastrel. “My uncle always said ‘If you can’t run with the big dogs, you’d best stay on the porch.’”

      “Your uncle was right.”

      Lacey scratched her neck. No doubt Lively had fleas. What had she come to? Stealing food from her cat, drinking after a horse, and getting fleas from a worthless dog? Her aunt Cimarron would never believe this because Lacey always liked everything so pristine and perfect. She was cross and sore as she stood up and tried to brush the dust off her skirt. She really needed to find the outhouse again, but the soldiers were opening the little land office and she wasn’t about to leave. Instead, she stood on one foot and then the other.

      “Careful, sister,” Blackie warned, “you’ll soak your drawers.”

      “Don’t be crude. I’ll not leave this line. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

      He grinned back at her. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

      The line was forming again behind them as the officials set up the makeshift table.

      “Next?” The official said.

      Lacey rushed forward. “I wish to claim lot number three in the nameless township five miles south of here.”

      “Me, too,” Blackie stepped up beside her.

      “All right.” The old man began writing. “And that’s Mr. and Mrs.—?”

      “We’re not together,” Lacey snapped.

      The old man looked up and chewed on the tip of his pencil. “I see. That presents a problem.”

      “I drove in my stake first,” Lacey said.

      “No, she didn’t,” Blackie countered. “She arrived seconds after I did. Clearly, I was there first.”

      “Liar. You were not.” Lacey said.

      The two men at the table looked at each other. “One of you a sooner?”

      “I beg your pardon?” Lacey said.

      “I mean, did one of you break the rules and come in before the official time for the land run to begin?”

      “Certainly not!” Lacey snapped, “I never break rules.”

      They turned their inquiring gazes toward the gambler. He grinned back at them. “Rules were made to be broken, gentlemen, but not this time. I’m not guilty. I rode a good, fast horse.”

      “In that case,” the old man sighed, “this is another one of those contested cases. We’ve had a bunch. Government will have to decide who actually gets the lot. Takes about six months, maybe a year.”

      Lacey groaned aloud. “I was going to start building my newspaper office on that land this very day.”

      The official shook his head. “Can’t do that, Miss, until the courts decide who owns it. Now if one of you would like to buy the other’s claim out—”

      “Not a chance,” Lacey snapped, “but if the rascal here would like to sell—”

      “Not a snowflake’s chance in hell, sister,” Blackie growled, “that’s too good a spot for a saloon.”

      “A saloon?” Lacey sniffed. “There won’t be any saloons once the Temperance Association dries up this Territory.”

      A groan went up from all the men behind her.

      The men at the table looked at each other and sighed. “You two fill out these papers and you’ll be notified when it finally comes up for review.”

      Lacey felt like weeping in frustration, but of course her emotions were always carefully controlled. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

      “That ain’t our problem, Ma’am. Next.” He gestured to the man behind her.

      There seemed to be nothing else to do but fill out the papers, turn them in, and walk away.

      “You stubborn rascal,” Lacey seethed, “I was clearly on that land first.”

      “You think just because you’re a woman, I’m supposed to roll over and let you have it? You want it both ways, sister; equal rights when it’s handy and special treatment for women when it serves your purpose.”

      “You’re outrageous, you know that? Let me find a—a necessary, and then let’s get out of here.”

      He lit a cigar. “So you’re gonna share your wagon?”

      “Do I have a choice?” She glared up at him. He had the broadest shoulders and a shadow of beard on his rugged face.

      “Of course not. I was just bein’ polite. I’ll take the animals to the wagon and we’ll wait for you there.”

      She paused, eyed him suspiciously. “Will you wait?”

      He shrugged. “Might as well. Don’t see no advantage in leavin’ you behind now that the land is tied up by law.”

      She went to find an outhouse, then returned through the bustling crowds, half expecting to see the wagon gone, but he leaned against it, smoking a cigar. The cat and dog seemed to have settled their differences because both stared at her from the back of the wagon.

      “Here,”