Cactus Flower (Gone-to-Texas Trilogy) by Shirl Henke Read Free Book Online

Then, a burning pain lanced through her right buttock. A large black mongrel dog had a singularly uncomfortable hold on her.
           “Git, you consarned son of a bitch! Lumpy plug-ugly hound!” As Charlee whirled to kick at the beast, the ripping sound intensified and a sudden draft hit her nether parts. Feeling gingerly with one hand, she held the sentinel at bay with her booted foot. “Blood! You worthless pile of cow shit, you've gone 'n bit me in the ass! I never!”
           She wavered between fury over the indignity of being bitten by a miserable cur, and stark terror, for the hound was not backing down. His beady eyes looked hate filled and menacing. If only she could reach her horse and leap into the saddle. But every time she tried to edge off the porch, the growling dog made a vicious snapping lunge, thwarting her plans. Too humiliated to call for help, Charlee seethed and swore.
           Just then, a dark orange blur came barreling out of the open door behind her. The creature screeched fiercely as the dog whirled and snapped at its tail. Charlee was forgotten and the chase was on, but only for the distance of a few yards in front of the cabin. There beside a live oak the orange fur ball took its stand with back arched wickedly.
           The cat was the most enormous tom Charlee had ever seen, with fangs at least three quarters of an inch long, easily visible in his large, spitting mouth. His dark green eyes glared balefully at the crouching dog. One well-chewed ear lopped over the side of his head. Numerous scars and nicks across his body attested to his valor or foolhardiness, depending on whether one liked cats. Charlee did, and she was not going to stand by while a hundred-and-ten-pound mongrel devoured a twenty-pound cat.
           Searching frantically for a weapon, she spied a branch fallen from the canopy of the oak. As the antagonists warily circled each other, emitting low, throaty growls, Charlee edged toward the crude cudgel. Just as she picked it up, a piercing scream erupted, accompanied by a baying howl, both loud enough to peel bark right off a tree. Charlee charged into the churning melee of black and orange fur, flailing wildly with the awkward club. Big spongy chunks of rotted wood flew in all directions, little deterring the combatants, who seemed impervious to her ill-timed blows.
           “Leave him be, you low-life cruddy pissant!” She hoped that most of her blows were striking the much larger dog, not the cat, whose yowls went on uninterrupted.
           Charlee continued to beat and swear until a sudden deluge of cold water put an abrupt end to the contest. The cat sprang away, back arched and defiant, still spitting and undaunted. The dog let out a whimper and ran around the side of the cabin. In his haste to escape, he knocked Charlee into the newly created mud wallow.
           Most of the water had hit the girl, who now lay sodden and hiccupping for breath in the ooze beneath the tree. The cat turned abruptly and began licking his back as if he had not a care in the world.
           “I swan ta Jasus, all th' cream in Santone's prob'ly been curdled by thet catterwallin!” The high-pitched yet peculiarly raspy voice belonged to an enormous mountain of a man who dropped a big oak bucket on the ground in front of Charlee. “Who in tarnation are yew? Wal, speak up, boy...wait a minute, yore no boy! A gal! Wut 'n hellfire is a gal doin sneakin' ‘round Asa's place, settin' Mutt off like thet?”
           Horrified, Charlee looked down at her water-soaked person. The bindings around her breasts had slipped down during the hullabaloo, and the thin cotton shirt clearly revealed her sex, clinging transparently to every curve.
           “I’m Charlee McAllister, Richard Lee's sister, and I wasn't either sneakin'!” Angrily she struggled to rise, only to take a quick seat in the mud once more when the cool breeze reminded her of