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thoughts.
he curved a hand under her arm. "I want to introduce you to the men. Some of
them you know, but the others haven't met you."
While the cowboys waited in line for Rusty to dish up their plates of stew,
Benteen identified them individually to her. Two of the shyer ones turned red
when she was introduced to them. Shorty Niles flattered her outrageously,
making her laugh, but all of them treated her with the utmost respect. They
weren't at all like the foul-talking talking, loud trailhands she'd seen on
the streets of fort Worth.
There was no order to the meal, no formality observed. The men sat on the
ground, leaving their hats to on and shoveling the food into their mouths as
if there might not be another meal for days. Lorna found it difficult to
appear at all ladylike when she was sitting cross-legged on the ground with
her skirts billowing around her and holding the plate of stew she was eating.
Rusty came around with the coffeepot to refill the cups.
"'This stew is very unusual." She had been taught to compliment the cook.
Since she hadn't eaten anything that tasted quite like it before, it seemed
logical to mention it. "What's it called?"
There was a lull in the conversation. Rusty glanced at Benteen. Everyone was
fully aware of his orders about swearing in front of the women.
"It's called ... son-of-a-gun stew," Rusty said finally, and a few of the
cowboys chuckled aloud.
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Lorna didn't understand the joke and slid a questioning glance at Benteen. His
mouth was slanted in a half-smile, but he kept his gaze down.
"It's made with beef, isn't it?" Loma guessed.
"Well, yes, ma'am." Rusty seemed to hesitate before admitting it. "It's made
from beef parts-the heart, liver, tongue. 'Course, it gets its flavor from the
marrow gut."
"Marrow gut," Lorna repeated, and let her fork rest on the plate. "What's
that?"
"It comes from the tube that connects a cow's two stomachs." Having spent a
great deal of his life at sea, Rusty knew sailors had to have some greens in
their diet to keep from getting sick and diseased. So did cowboys on the
trail. Meat and beans alone weren't enough. Since cattle ate grass, the
necessary nutritious elements were in the marrow of the tube connecting their
stomachs. If a cowboy ate it, he got the benefit of the greens.
"Son-of-a-bitch stew," as it was more widely known, usually contained it.
"Oh." Lorna stared at her plate and wished she had never asked. There wasn't
any way she could eat another bite. And the food that was in her stomach
didn't feel like it wanted to stay there. She looked across the way at Mary,
but she didn't appear to have been listening.
As if she hadn't been through enough that day, here she was eating animal
guts. It was too much. She set her plate on the ground, not caring that the
cutlery clattered off the side, and scrambled to her feet.
"Excuse me," Lorna mumbled, conscious of Benteen's frowning look.
Gathering her skirts tightly around her, she ran from the campfire area and
sought refuge in the back of the wagon. She sprawled the length of the
quilt-topped mattress and started to cry. She just couldn't take any more.
A guilty look of regret stole across Rusty's lined face. "Sorry, Benteen. I
fergot such talk offends a lady's delicate sensibilities."
A hush had settled over the men at Lorna's flight. Benteen was conscious that
they were waiting to see what he was going to do. He was irritated at the
awkward position Lorna had put him in.
He forced himself to smile. "Don't worry about it, Rusty. There's a lot of
things she's going to have to learn to accept."
He put his plate aside and rolled to his feet. Crossing the camp with slow
deliberation, Benteen raised the canvas flap of the wagon and ducked his head
to climb inside, aware of the smothered sounds of Lorna's crying. He struggled
to control his impatience. She lifted her head from the quilt long enough to
look at him, then turned it quickly away.
"What is it this time, Lorna?" There wasn't room to stand in the cramped
quarters of the wagon bed, so he sat down on the mattress.
Immediately she moved, turning and pushing herself into a sitting position.
Her legs were crooked under her skirt to avoid any contact with him.
"Animal guts," she declared in a choked voice. "How can you expect me to eat
animal guts?"
"It isn't the gut. It's the marrow, and you liked the stew well enough before
you found out what was in it," he reminded her.
"It isn't just that," Lorna protested, and scrubbed away the tears with her
hand.
"Then what is it?" Benteen demanded.
"It's everything. You never told me it was going to be like this," she
accused.
"You knew it was going to be rough." His eyebrows were pulled together in a
dark frown.
"Rough, yes." She nodded. "I can take being bounced all over a wagon until I'm
black and blue. I can stand being dusty and dirty because there isn't enough
water for bathing. But it's the rest."
"The rest?"
"Don't you know how humiliating it is for a woman to relieve herself where
others can see her?" Lorna sobbed, turning pink again at the embarrassing
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memory. She buried her face in her hands. "I wish I were back home with my
parents where they eat regular food."
"What do you want from me, Lorna?" There was a steely quietness to his voice.
"Do you want me to turn the wagon around tomorrow morning and take you back?"
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
"I don't know." She shook her head, confused and overwrought by the whole
situation.
"I hadn't realized how difficult this trip was going to be for you," Benteen
admitted. "I understand how embarrassing certain things can be. But you're
going to have to come to terms with them."
"That's easy for you to say," Lorna retorted, finally bringing down her hands
to look at him with bitter reproval.
"It isn't easy. And it wasn't easy to sit out there with all my men watching
while you go running off to hide in the wagon and cry," he informed her
roughly. "You were crying when you came this morning, and you're crying
tonight. Doesn't it matter to you what they're thinking right now?"
She cast an uneasy glance at the canvas side of the wagon, realizing that all
the cowboys knew Benteen was in here with her now.
"I hadn't thought about it," Lorna admitted.
"I imagine their opinion is the same as mine," he stated. "I thought I
married a woman, but instead I find I've got a spoiled child on my hands."
She swung at him as hard as she could. The flat of her hand cracked against
his cheek, the force of the blow turning his head. Lorna was shocked by her
own physical violence and stared at Benteen with fear as he slowly turned his
head back to look at her. No man had ever laid a hand on him in anger and got
by with it, but she was a woman-his wife. Benteen controlled the urges within
him.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and eyed the white mark left by her hand as it
slowly turned red.
"I swear to God I don't understand you." The angry words were forced through
clenched teeth. "You have enough guts to hit me, yet you cry over the lack of
privacy."
"You made me angry when you said that," Lorna defended her action.
"You're going to have to grow up. I haven't got time to hold your hand," he
declared tersely.
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