Her gloves had picked up dust from the wheels of her chair, and touching her forehead had left five distinct points of dust on her forehead. The smudges made her suddenly real to him, and he could see what it cost her to admit she needed something. He stared at the dust prints on her forehead and remembered how it felt when your pride cracked, shattered, and fell away.
“I’d give you an assistant if I could, Mrs. Mills. But we’re restricted to twelve men in the outfit, including you and your sisters. I can’t spare one of those twelve as a cook’s assistant without jeopardizing the success of the drive.”
“How can I do this?” she whispered, looking up at him.
“Get out of that chair,” he said, glancing at the dust prints. “Or don’t go.”
Turning the chair into the wind, she closed her eyes and let the breeze cool her face. “I hate this place,” she said in a low voice. “The ranch, Texas, the smell of cattle and manure, all the empty space. I hate it more than you can imagine.”
He waited, watching the back of her head, and he knew when her pride hit the ground.
“How soon can you have a crutch made?” she inquired in a low, anguished voice.
“The day after tomorrow,” he said, standing away from the chuck wagon. He pushed her back to the buckboard. “I’ll have a provisioned chuck wagon brought up to the back of the house. Study where everything is and how it’s loaded. When my wrangler arrives—his name is Grady Cole—I’ll send him up to talk to you. He can tell you what kind of food the outfit will expect. The food on a drive is simple, but it must be plentiful and tasty. Practice cooking those items. Food is one of the few things the boys have to look forward to on a cattle drive.”
Alex didn’t speak a single word during the return drive to the ranch house.
As if he hadn’t had enough woman trouble for one day, he found a note from Lola when he returned to the boardinghouse. Eyes narrowed, Dal read the message twice, then crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it against the wall.
He’d been half-expecting a message from her, so the invitation to stop by her rental house wasn’t entirely a surprise. She hadn’t been too far from his thoughts since the day he saw her in the Klees cemetery, and he guessed that she’d sent a thought or two in his direction.
Looking back, he was glad there had never been anything romantic between them, although she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t say no. They might have ended between the sheets if he hadn’t spent more time on the trail than he’d spent in New Orleans, or if the war had lasted longer or if she hadn’t double-crossed him. The times had been crazy.
Long before Appomattox, Dal had known that the captain of the Quartermaster Corp was feathering his nest by diverting supplies gathered to be sent on to the troops. When the end was finally impossible to deny, corruption had exploded into scandalous proportions. It seemed like everyone in the South was scrambling to salvage something for himself, stealing beef, whiskey, tinned food, tobacco, even horses intended for the retreating army, and selling them to the French.
When Lola suggested that Dal was a fool not to profit like everyone else, he had let himself be convinced. The cause was lost. It was every man for himself. Why should the rest of the corps line their pockets but not him? He had let her persuade him to sell his next herd to the French instead of taking the steers into New Orleans to be shipped to the troops.
The first surprise came when Lola’s French contact informed him that Lola was holding the money from the sale. Even as he watched the Frenchman ride off with the army’s cattle, he hadn’t yet grasped that Lola had played him for a sucker.
That realization didn’t sink in until the next day, when Emile Julie from the New Orleans City Council arrived to collect the same cattle that Lola had sold to the French. She’d sold the herd twice and pocketed the money. When Julie discovered that Dal no longer had the steers he had paid Lola for, a gun battle erupted. Dal was wounded and one of his drovers died that day. And that was only the beginning of his troubles.
Emile Julie bought a full page in the New Orleans newspaper in which he swore that no one cheated him and lived to brag about it. He publicly vowed to kill Dal Frisco and Lola Fiddler if it took the rest of his life to do it. The crazy bastard meant what he said.
The instant Dal rode into New Orleans, dodging Julie’s henchmen, he went to Lola’s flat on Royal Street, but the rooms were bare and Lola and the money were long gone.
Yeah, he thought, he had a few things to discuss with Lola Fiddler Roark. But not right away. He’d let her stew a little more, let her wonder if he still wanted to choke the life out of her.
Chapter 5
“Please, Ward, just listen.” Wringing her hands and stumbling over her skirts, Les followed him down the porch steps and into the front yard. “We don’t need Pa’s inheritance. We’ll have the general store. I’ll work beside you, and we’ll build it together.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I can’t do this.” Halting, she covered her face, shuddering and remembering the steers thundering into the branding corral. She could still smell the hot stink of cowhide, and she was going to have nightmares for weeks about horns that had looked as sharp-tipped as needles.
Ward stopped beside his gig, and even in the darkness she saw his knuckles turn white when he gripped the side door. “That’s exactly what your father predicted, remember? He said you’d end up selling sugar and pickles if you married me.” Stepping forward, he clasped her shoulders and shook her until pins flew out of her hair. Then he lowered his face next to hers. “You’re going on that cattle drive, Les, and you’re going to make it work.”
“I can’t!” She steadied herself by gripping his lapels. “Don’t make me do this!”
For a minute she thought he was furious enough to strike her, but she was so wild and frantic inside that she didn’t care if he did. “I can’t! I can’t do it!”
The edge of hysteria thinning her voice must have reached him because instead of shouting or raising his hand, he hesitated and drew her shaking body into his arms. Petting her, smoothing back her hair, he spoke next to her ear in a tone heavy with patience.
“Les, calm down and think. You’re a Roark, too good to work in a general store. You can’t end up wearing a soiled apron in a general store, I won’t allow that. We deserve better.”
Usually when he talked about the difference in their status, it led to an angry explosion about how she was marrying beneath herself, followed by accusations that she thought she was better than him. Then he had to show her that he was just as good, had to prove that her name didn’t impress him. He had to punish her for being a Roark, or maybe he had to punish her because he wasn’t a Roark. She didn’t know what went through his mind when he struck her.
But tonight he didn’t react as she expected.
“Les, honey, listen to me. We deserve that money. Now I know it’s going to be difficult for a refined woman like you to actually work a cattle drive, but you just have to do it. For us. We’ve got to prove that your pa was wrong.” Resentment sharpened his voice. “We’ve got to get that money and show everyone that I’m just as good as your pa.”
She dropped her head against his shoulder and wept in despair while he talked and talked. Other people had controlled her life for as long as she could remember, why should this time be different? No one ever seemed to care what she wanted. And she always went along, letting other people tell her what to do.
“Are you listening?” He gave her another shake.
“Is it just the money, Ward?” she asked suddenly, astounded by her unexpected bravery. “My sisters think you only want Pa’s money.” He could so easily prove them wrong. All he had to do was tell her that it didn’t matter if she walked away from the cattle drive.
He was quiet for so long that she started weeping again. Of course it was the money. Why else would he want to marry her? She wasn’t beautiful like Alex and Freddy, and she lacked their confidence and strength. She would never have found the courage to run off
like they had. She had no skills, had difficulty making a decision. Whatever she did, it seemed to be wrong.
“I wish you hadn’t said that, Les, because I’m not sure you’ll understand the answer.”
Even the man she planned to marry thought she was too stupid to understand a plain answer. And maybe he was right. She didn’t know anymore. If she was as smart as she used to think she was, then Ward wouldn’t always be criticizing her.
“The money’s part of it. Now don’t stiffen up like that, or I’ll get mad.” He drew a breath and tightened his grip on her upper arms. “All my life I’ve known I deserved better than being stuck in a backwater hole like Klees, running a general store.” His lips twisted in disgust. “I deserve a fine house and servants as much as you do.” He narrowed his eyes on the ranch house.
“Ward, you’re squeezing my arms.”
“When you said I could come courting, I saw a way out.” He stared into her eyes. “Frankly, Les, it hasn’t been a smooth courtship from my point of view. First your pa insulted me and tried to drive me away, then he died, and finally I thought we’d be just fine. Then we learned about the damned will. Now you’re telling me that you don’t want our share of the inheritance.”
“I didn’t say that.” The tears kept falling and she couldn’t stop them. “I want you to have your chance at success, really I do. But I just…”
“You see, Les,” he interrupted, “I can’t support a wife without our inheritance. The store isn’t doing as well as it did before Pa died. Pa bowed and scraped, but I won’t do that. A man like me shouldn’t have to. Now don’t cry, it makes you look older.”
His comment reminded her that she was long past the age when most girls married, reminded her that Ward was her last chance. If Ward didn’t marry her, who would take care of her? Who would tell her what to do? She hated other people controlling her life, but the truth was she had no confidence in her own decisions. She needed someone to take her in hand.
Pulling a handkerchief from her cuff, she pressed it against her eyes, trying to stop the flood of tears. “Without the money you won’t marry me. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m only thinking of you.” He started petting her again, patting her back. “I can’t ask you to work in the store like you were common. I’ll walk away before I’d put you through that.”
Suddenly she felt so tired that all she wanted to do was return to the house and go to bed. Last week when she’d told him about hiring Dal Frisco, something she couldn’t control, he’d gotten so angry that he slapped her hard enough to black her eye. Tonight, when she’d told him about not wanting to go on the cattle drive, she’d expected him to slap her again, but he hadn’t.
Opening her eyes, she gazed at the moonlight gleaming on his scalp through strands of thinning hair. “I could get killed,” she said in a dulled voice. “I could drown, or get trampled—”
“Nonsense. Frisco is one of the best bosses in Texas. He won’t let that happen.”
She stared at him. In an about-face, Dal Frisco was suddenly a marvel of judgment and efficiency who would protect her during the drive.
“I’ll do it,” she whispered finally, defeated. There was no choice, not really. If she didn’t agree to go on the drive, Ward would leave her, and she’d be choosing destitution.
“That’s my good girl,” he said exuberantly, pulling her into his arms. “I knew you’d see reason. And, I was saving this news as a surprise but I’ll tell you now what I’m willing to do. I’m going with you! I’ve already cleared it with Luther Moreland. He says there’s no prohibition in the will against me accompanying the drive, so long as I don’t help you or the others in any way.”
She stared at him in horror. “Ward… I appreciate what you’re… but…” He would criticize everything she did. She’d be so self-conscious that she couldn’t function.
“Now don’t worry about leaving the store with no one at the helm. I’d planned to sell it anyway. And I won’t mind the hardships, knowing I’m making the sacrifice for us.” When she saw the excitement in his eyes, she understood that the whole evening had been leading to this revelation. “I’ll be right there to offer encouragement and suggestions when you need them. It’s an inspired decision, don’t you agree?”
“Oh Ward. Must you sell the store?” she inquired anxiously. “What if we fall short of the number of steers we have to sell?” She swallowed hard, feeling as if a weight had descended on her head and shoulders.
“You’ll have to make sure the drive delivers at least two thousand steers,” he said lightly.
Trembling, Les remembered the huge steers pounding into the corral, and her expression went slack. It was inconceivable to think that she could prevent one from wandering off if he wanted to go. She couldn’t possibly affect the outcome of a cattle drive. Thinking about Ward’s faith in her made her hands shake, and she feared she was about to faint.
Pulling back from her, Ward frowned. “Aren’t you going to thank me? This won’t be an easy trip, you know. And it won’t be cheap. I’ll have to provide my own provisions. This is going to be damned inconvenient, but I’m willing to put myself through it for you. For our future.”
All she could think about was that he was going to sell the store and leave them without a fall-back position. In the end, it was conceivable that they would both be destitute. And it would be her fault, because he was selling the store to be with her.
“I…” she clapped a hand over her mouth and spun away from him. Grabbing her skirts, she dashed around the house toward the privy and made it to the door before she threw up.
It was just stage business, Freddy reminded herself with a heavy sigh, trying again to swing the damned lasso. Her arm ached, and her muscles were sore from yesterday’s session.
“Not like that,” Drinkwater said, examining Les’s knot. “Here. Let me show you again.” Les stared at the rope in her hands, then threw it down, burst into tears, and ran toward the privy, her skirts flapping.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Freddy said to Drinkwater, who was looking after Les like he didn’t know whether to give chase or let her go. Les was such a baby.
Drawing a breath, she swung her newly tied lasso next to the ground, trying to get it spinning, then suppressed a swearword when the rope caught in her skirts. Drinkwater played out his lasso and showed her. Again. He made it look so easy that she felt like screaming.
Once more, she fixed the size of the loop before she set it spinning near her feet, careful to keep her skirts out of the way. Then she jerked her wrist and the rope flew up and smacked her hard under the chin. Stars exploded in front of her eyes as she fell to the ground.
She could do this, she had to. On the next attempt she got the damned thing off the ground and over her head without hitting herself in the face. The loop collapsed, but not before it fell over her. She’d managed to lasso herself, but she’d gotten the rope spinning in the air.
“You’re spinning it from right to left,” a voice said behind her. “Spin it from left to right.” Whirling, she stared at Dal Frisco who was standing hip-shot and relaxed, grinning at the rope caught around her waist. He looked at Drinkwater. “Find something else to do, son, I’m taking over here.”
Pushing the rope down her skirts and stepping out of it, Freddy coiled it and watched Drinkwater tip his hat, then amble toward the corral. Frisco would have to appear in time to see her lasso herself.
Walking forward, he took the rope out of her hands and inspected her knot. “It occurs to me that we can hit the trail with a few unbranded steers or with a few less than we’d hoped to take. But this drive goes nowhere without at least one Roark sister in the outfit.” He looked up as Les returned, holding a hand over her lips.
Frisco spun out Freddy’s rope, twirled it on the ground then with a flick of his wrist moved the rope over his head. His elbow came up, the rope dipped down, and he deftly lassoed the steer head that he’d nailed to one of the sawhorses. As he walked toward t
he sawhorse to retrieve the rope, he called over his shoulder. “When are your trousers going to be ready?”
“Sometime next week,” Les answered, rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache.
“Not good enough. I’ll send down to the bunkhouse and get some pants up here today.”
Frowning, Freddy took back the rope he handed her and extended her aching wrist and arm to twirl it next to the ground. She had the twirling part down pat, even when she reversed the spin as he had advised, so all she had to worry about was snagging her skirts.
Her rope skipped against the dirt and flipped out of control, whipping up and tangling in her skirts again. “Damn it to hell!” She wanted to justify Frisco’s confidence that she could learn this. It puzzled her that she wanted him to think well of her, but she did.
He looked up from helping Les. “You learn to talk like that while you were traveling with the theater people?”
Bending, she yanked the rope away from a twist of skirts and petticoats. “I learned words to make a preacher blush just sitting at the dinner table, Mr. Frisco. Pa seemed to think an ‘excuse me’ wiped cussing out of our memory, but it didn’t.” She looked up at him while she pushed down her skirts. Lord, her arm ached. “I didn’t use those words, though, until after I quit the theater.” She shrugged, telling herself that she’d been wrong. She didn’t care what he thought about her. “People expect the worst of actors. If a swearword hits the air, all it does is confirm what people are thinking about me anyway. It makes no never mind to me.”
“I catch your point, Miss Roark,” Frisco said. Standing behind Les, he covered her hand with his and set the momentum of her twirling speed. Gradually, guiding her hand, he brought the rope up until together they had it spinning over her head, then he tilted her elbow. “Release it,” he ordered, withdrawing his assistance.
The rope sailed forward a few feet, and Les’s jaw dropped. She stared at the rope, then spun to face Frisco and Freddy with huge shining eyes. “I did it!”
The Best Man Page 6
