“Oh no,” Les groaned beside her. “Ward came to watch.” Shoulders sagging, she turned away from the observers and cast a dismayed look at the ground.
Freddy spotted him standing apart from the ranch hands. “Just ignore him. We’ve practiced working cattle. The only difference today is that we’re going to work a longhorn.” She didn’t let herself really think about what she was saying.
“We haven’t done it without falling off our horses or making Mr. Cole shout at us.” Les lifted her eyes to stare at the longhorn the boys were bringing out, then she blinked rapidly, and whispered, “Oh, my heavens. Look at his horns.”
Grady overheard the remark and walked over to them. “That longhorn is a cow. It ain’t a ‘he.’ ” He rolled his eyes and looked them up and down. “She’s old and ain’t got much frisk left in her. Some of the boys over there think of her as a pet almost. Her name’s Daisy.”
“Daisy?” Now Freddy let herself look. Her heart sank. It looked to her like Daisy was a pair of horns with a thousand-pound animal hanging under them. “Oh, my God.”
Frisco rode up to them then, and Freddy stood a little straighter. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that she could barely breathe. Shading her eyes from the sun, she cocked her head and gazed up at him with an expression as confident as she could make it.
“Remember that the horse is going to do the work. All you two have to do is stay on top of him.” Frisco’s cool blue eyes traveled over her body, then settled on Freddy’s face.
“We have done this before, Mr. Frisco,” she said, tossing her head.
“And never successfully,” he snapped. “Les? Let yourself slide in the saddle with the horse’s motion. One hand on the reins. The loose reins. And one hand on the pommel.”
Grady nodded to one of the boys hanging on the fence. “Bring out the herd.”
“Herd? What herd?” Freddy gasped. When she remembered her audience, the hand that had flown to her chest moved on up to adjust a curl behind her ear.
“We’re going to put Daisy in the middle of the milk cows,” Frisco said, watching her. “You go first. You ride into the herd, cut Daisy out.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Then you run her into that pen. It’s your turn after that,” he said to Les. Frisco gave them one of those lazy, hard-eyed smiles that rolled Freddy’s stomach up in knots and made her face feel hot. “You can both do this. Ride slowly into the herd, let your horse know which cow you want, then let the horse do the rest.”
“It’s a longhorn,” Les said in anguish. “Must we have an audience? Can’t you send those men away?”
Lifting his head, Frisco scanned the men along the fence, watching them exchanging money, taking bets. His gaze lingered on Ward Hamm before he looked down at Les. “Handling cattle has to be second nature. Most of the time someone is nearby, watching, and it might be your fiancé since he insists on accompanying this drive.”
Grady led Freddy’s horse up to where they were talking. “Get your butt up there,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice.
It was about to happen. And the only way she was going to get through this was to think of it as a performance. Frantically, she reminded herself that she knew her role, and hopefully Daisy knew hers. Wishing she hadn’t seen the hands placing bets, she placed her boot in the stirrup and swung up on the horse. And it occurred to her that a short time ago she couldn’t have mounted without assistance.
Clinging to this small encouraging realization, she settled herself firmly, trying to look like this was something she wanted to do. For an instant she met Frisco’s steady gaze, but she couldn’t decipher what she saw in his eyes. He sat easy on his horse, shoulders slumped, his body relaxed as if the hard leather saddle were as comfortable as a parlor chair.
“No theatrics, Freddy,” he said in a low voice that only she could hear. “Just ride in nice and easy, do what we’ve been practicing, and that’s it.”
That was the difference between her and most people. She knew good theater. Breathing deeply, she immersed herself in the role. Once again, she was Fancy Roark, ingenue, commanding the role of cattle queen. She’d show Frisco how this scene should be played.
Spinning her horse smartly, thrilled that she knew how to do it, she shouted her opening line and galloped toward the herd. “Yee hah!” She could do this. Daisy was just a prop.
By the time she finished talking herself out of her stage fright, she realized that she should have reached the little herd, but she hadn’t. The cows were running as fast as her horse. In all directions. Heading out to the open range. The scene was deteriorating badly.
A man sped past on her right, another blew by on the left. Then Frisco’s buckskin cut in front of her. Her horse planted his feet in a hard stop, and only a miracle prevented her from flying over his head. Her heart was the only thing that sailed to the ground. Placing a hand on her chest, she gulped for air, then blinked hard.
Frisco leaned toward her, his teeth bared and his eyes as hard as nails. “You little fool! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You ever pull a stunt like this again and you’re off this drive, do you hear me? Haven’t you learned a single damned thing?”
“I didn’t fall off,” she said in a wondering voice. She didn’t know why her audience wasn’t applauding wildly, they should have been.
“Take a good look, Freddy.” Anger heated Frisco’s face, and his expression was carved in granite. “You just started a stampede and it’s going to take the boys thirty minutes to round up those cows.” Disgust darkened his stare. “Now get your butt out there and help them. I want you to bring back Daisy. You, Freddy. Bring her back here and get her in the pen.”
She lifted her chin, furious that he was chastising her when people were watching, and rode away. Before she got Daisy back to the pen and inside, she’d fallen off her horse twice. She’d split out the seams on both shoulders of her bodice, lost her hat, and hair was streaming down her back. She was soaked with sweat and furious.
But she’d brought Daisy back. She’d chased after a longhorn, turned her around, and made the animal go where she wanted it to go. As she slid off her horse, trembling with excitement and exhaustion, she had a feeling that life was never again going to be the same. She had done something that even she had not believed in her heart that she could do.
Frisco rode up beside her as Grady led her horse away. “It was a damned sloppy job,” he snapped. Staring down at her, he watched her brush dust and dry grass off her pants.
“But I did it!” A grin widened her lips. She stamped a boot on the ground and spun in a happy circle. “I caught a longhorn!” Hooking her thumbs in her back pockets, she rocked back and laughed up at him, her eyes sparkling. She wanted to talk about it, wanted to tell him just how she had done it. But he’d been there, a few feet away, watching everything she did.
“Sometime soon, you and I are going to have a little discussion that neither of us is going to enjoy.”
Climbing up to sit on the fence, she cleared her mind and watched Les. Even from this distance, she could see that Les was shaking like an aspen tree. To her surprise, Freddy felt a little sorry for her sister. Especially when she noticed that Ward had moved closer to the fence and watched sharply as if he planned to critique Les’s performance later.
Frowning, she watched Les draw a deep shaky breath, close her eyes for a long moment, then ride into the herd of milk cows. Immediately it became apparent that Les was having trouble, too. The cattle didn’t gallop off and scatter as they had after Freddy’s thrilling entrance. Instead, they moved as a group, with Les caught in the middle.
Swinging her head, Freddy looked for Frisco and studied his expression. He was frowning, trying to decide whether to intervene, as Les and the herd drifted farther away. She thought he was ready to signal the boys to ride out and bring the small herd back when Daisy came out of the bunch with Les right behind her.
Freddy couldn’t believe her eyes. Stiffening, she sat up straight and w
atched Les work the longhorn. Les slid and moved on the saddle exactly as they’d been instructed, her gaze fixed on Daisy, her body moving with the horse’s motion. Daisy was riled up from Freddy’s run and tossed her horns and tried to break for the open range, but Les was right there, guiding her back, blocking a turn, dodging the horns, and moving her toward the gate of the pen.
Wide-eyed and disbelieving, Freddy watched Les drive Daisy into the pen. And she whirled toward the fence when a cheer went up and the watching men applauded wildly. A frown clamped her brow. They hadn’t cheered or clapped for her.
Frisco rode up to where she sat on the fence. “Les did it right,” he said coolly, as if he knew what she was thinking. “You entertained your audience—and they’ll be laughing at you for a long time—but you didn’t do what you were supposed to do.”
Embarrassment flooded her throat and face with bright pink. She couldn’t stand the thought that the cowboys were laughing at her and cheering Les. Les! If Frisco had wanted to deflate her and make her feel foolish, he had succeeded.
“Les just fainted!” she said with scorn. Les had slipped off her horse, blinked, then wilted to the ground. Freddy saw Ward climb over the fence and run toward her.
“Every one of those men knows how important it is to obey instructions,” Frisco said in a tight hard voice. “Les did what she was told to do. You made a fool of yourself by stampeding the herd.”
“You’ve made your point,” she said, snapping back at him and feeling the fire in her cheeks. And she’d learned a lesson that she wouldn’t forget. Never again was she going to allow Les to best her. It was humiliating. “I want another chance.”
“Not today. Next, all three of you are going to practice shooting.”
Suddenly she glimpsed a face along the fence that she hadn’t noticed before. She jerked and the crimson deepened in her face. Her hands flew to the tangled hair streaming down her back. “What’s Jack Caldwell doing here?”
“Caldwell is Mrs. Roark’s representative,” Frisco said, casting a contemptuous glance toward the man at the fence. “He’ll accompany the drive.”
It was one thing to know that Jack and Lola were being seen together, it was another to learn they were involved to the extent that Jack would act as Lola’s representative. Her chest contracted, and her stomach hurt. Jack’s defection, his betrayal, was now complete.
Sliding off the fence, needing to escape for a few minutes alone, Freddy left Frisco without a word and fled toward the house. She had almost reached the side yard when Jack called to her.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?”
Hating it that he had followed her, she turned and reluctantly waited for him to catch up, her heart sinking when she saw him. She had kissed those lips, had tugged her fingers through his heavy gold hair.
“You and I have nothing to say to each other.” The rich scent of bay rum enveloped her as he approached, smiling the same smile that she’d found so attractive.
“I know I’ve got some explaining to do.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. But she veered away from the house and walked toward the old magnolia tree.
Jack followed, tossing his hat and catching it. “Fancy honey, you knew from the first that I’m a gambling man. I have to bet on the filly most likely to cross the finish line. Much as I’d like that to be you, well…” He shrugged. “But that don’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“How long were you seeing her?” Freddy asked, leaning against the magnolia tree and folding her arms across her chest. It put her at a disadvantage to know how bad she looked, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Did you start seeing Lola before Pa died? Were you seeing both of us at the same time?”
“Now, you don’t really want to know about all that.”
He was right. A wave of anger colored her cheeks as she realized she knew the answer. She had suspected he was seeing other women while he was wooing her; she just hadn’t imagined that one of them might be her father’s wife.
He came up beside her, bringing the scent of hair oil and barbershop and wearing his most charming smile. “Fancy? Now don’t give me that look. We had some good times. No reason we can’t have some more.”
Suddenly she understood. Choosing Lola wasn’t about romance, not with Jack. For him it was always the jackpot. Romancing Lola had to do with Pa’s money and who would get it and how he could deal himself in for a share. She had ridiculed Les for being blind to Ward Hamm’s greediness, but she had closed her eyes to the same thing in Jack. He wanted Pa’s money, and he was willing to accept whichever woman came with it.
Stiffening, she stared at him for a long moment, then she tossed back her hair and walked toward the back door. “Go to hell, Jack. And stay away from me during the drive.”
She didn’t know which hurt more. That he’d traded her for Lola, or that all he cared about was the money.
The way to punish him for betting wrong was to make sure that he and Lola never got their hands on Pa’s fortune. Unfortunately, in her heart she suspected they had an excellent chance of winning. Right now she didn’t feel confident about anything.
“I don’t see why I have to learn to shoot a pistol, Mr. Frisco,” Alex complained. Narrowing her gaze, she squinted at the bales of hay he had set up as a target. “I am never going to shoot at anything, so this is a waste of time.” She was sick to death of trying to learn new impossible things. Weary of battering her pride against new failures, day after day after day. Dismayed, she looked at the pistol in her hand, surprised by the weight of it.
“I’m in no mood for diplomacy, Alex.” Frisco planted his fists on his hips. “We’re going to start trailing in about ten days and not one of you is close to being ready.”
Les looked up from the pistol she was gingerly holding as if it were something vile. “Mr. Hamm is going to be angry when he hears the drovers calling us by our first names.” After sliding an anxious glance toward the barn, she returned to inspecting her weapon.
“There are too many Miss Roarks around here. We’re going to use first names.” Knots rose along Dal Frisco’s jaw and an explosion threatened in his expression. “And we are going to pick up the pace,” he said sharply. “Ladies, tomorrow and from now on, you are going to saddle and unsaddle your own horses.”
“What?” Freddy and Les said in unison.
“You’ll also learn how to make up your bedrolls and pack them, and how to set up a tent in case of bad weather. And you’re going to work at holding together a small herd of longhorns.” He turned stormy eyes to Alex. “Tomorrow, you are going to prepare breakfast for the household, then drive six miles that way”—he pointed a finger toward the open range—“where you are going to prepare a noon meal before you drive the wagon back here and fix supper.”
She hated him. He paid them no respect, treated them like hired help, and he demanded too much. Feeling half-crazed inside, she set the brake on her chair, then lifted the pistol and fired wildly, venting her frustration at the hay bales. Freddy and Les looked at her, looked at each other, and then they, too, fired. Noise and smoke flashed around her, but Alex didn’t think a single shot among the hail of bullets struck the hay bales. She didn’t care. She fired until all her bullets were gone and the hammer clicked down on empty.
“Stop!” Frisco shouted into a sudden silence. Sweeping off his hat, he threw it on the ground, shook his head, and swore for a full minute. Then he sucked in a deep breath, held it, and finally expelled the air slowly. “All right. You have now fired a pistol and sent bullets flying all over this damned ranch. Now, we will learn about a six-shooter, how to load it and clean it, and then we will try again—and the next time we will fire it correctly.”
All three sisters looked at him, and said in unison, “I hate you.”
The next morning Señora Calvos knocked on her door and reminded her that she was fixing breakfast in the backyard. Alex sat up and pushed a wave of blond hair out of her eyes, wanting to cuss like Fre
ddy.
And, of course, it was Freddy who was first to criticize the meal that she and Les had been rousted out of bed to sample. “What is this stuff?”
“It’s sowbelly—bacon to you—fried beef, and eggs since we have them,” Alex snapped. The ground was wet from an overnight rain, and she’d had a devil of a time getting the fire started. Grease splattered her dress, and she’d burned the beef. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never become accustomed to handling raw meat; she detested the feel of it. As for the eggs, not one had come out of the skillet with an unbroken yoke.
Les turned a lump in her hand. “I guess this is a biscuit?”
“I usually do better.” Lifting her head she stared at Frisco, seething with resentment and frustration. “What do you have to say?”
“Nothing.” He chewed. And chewed. “Except, it appears that you probably aren’t going to be too popular with the outfit.” Raising his fork, he poked experimentally at his eggs.
Freddy set her plate aside. “I’m cold, tired, and I don’t like sitting on the ground to eat.” Her stare dared Frisco to object. “I’m going back inside.”
“You and Les head down to the stables and saddle up,” Frisco said, prodding one of the biscuits with a knife. Alex noticed and ground her teeth together.
“When do we get a day of rest?” Les whispered, dropping her head. “I ache all over, and I’m so tired I can’t think.” Now that the sun was up, Alex noticed a new bruise on Les’s jaw. She decided uneasily that the bruise must be a result of working the longhorn. Her mind shuddered away from suspecting anything else.
The Best Man Page 9
