The Best Man

by Maggie Osborne

  “Damn it, Freddy.” Reaching to the table beside the bed, he found a cigar and lit it. “This wasn’t grist for your acting mill. This was about doing it right.” He reached behind and propped the pillows against the bedstead and leaned against them.

  “Oh you did it right,” she said softly, inhaling the scent of his skin.

  “Then you aren’t going to tell me to go to hell?” he murmured against her tangled curls.

  “Not yet.” She laughed and combed her fingers through the hair on his chest, giving it a gentle yank. “Dal?” she said after a minute. “I’m glad it was you.”

  So glad that it hadn’t been Jack Caldwell or one of the actors she had met or any of the men who had courted her over the years. She thanked heaven that she had waited for Dal Frisco.

  “Suddenly I’m famished, are you?”

  She laughed, happy and exuberant. Rolling away, she found the nightgown he’d brought and dropped it over her head, then tied her hair with a length of ribbon. When they returned to the table, she felt a moment of unaccustomed shyness. There was something warmly intimate about dining in her nightgown with a half-naked man. This was the sort of thing married people did.

  But tonight was not about promises or the future. Tonight was Dal’s insistence on making her first real sexual experience a pleasant one. That was all, and nothing more.

  “Tell me about Montana,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone. “What’s it like? Why do you want to live there?”

  Dal took a sip from a cup of coffee that had grown cold, then he grinned. “I’ve dreamed of Montana for years, but I’ve never been there.” Surprise lifted her eyebrows, then she laughed. “I’ve seen paintings, and I’ve talked to cattlemen from Montana. Mostly I want to live there because it isn’t Louisiana, where I grew up, and it isn’t Texas, where my reputation precedes me.”

  She understood about reputations. “But you want to be a rancher.”

  He broke a chunk off the loaf of bread. “It’s what I know and what I love.”

  “Dal? Why did you start drinking?”

  “Good God,” he said suddenly. “I told the musicians to keep playing until I signaled them to stop. Do you want more music?”

  Smiling, Freddy shook her head. “The deed is done. We don’t need them anymore.”

  “Did we need them?” When he saw the color in her cheeks, he smiled, then tossed a purse out the window to the musicians below.

  When he returned to the table, he glanced at her wineglass. “I told you about knowing Lola in New Orleans. I was in the Quartermaster Corps, Lola was looking for a way to exploit the war and the times. If she hadn’t found me, she would have used someone else. But she found me,” he said in a hard voice. He told her about the deal to sell his herd to the French, told her about Emile Julie, and Lola skipping out with the money from both sales. “What I did was dishonest. I betrayed what I believed in, and I betrayed my country.”

  Freddy thought about his story. “At the end, everyone was scrambling to save what they could and put their lives back together.” She drew a breath. “I’m not excusing what you did. But anyone who lived through those times would understand it.”

  “That doesn’t make it right. But maybe I could have convinced myself and lived with it. Unfortunately, selling the troop’s beef wasn’t the worst of it.”

  “What was?”

  “Learning that the Frenchman who bought my cattle sold them to the Union,” he said in a voice so filled with pain that Freddy winced. “My herd fed the soldiers who were doing their damnedest to kill my neighbors and friends,” he said harshly. “The day I learned what happened to those beeves, I walked into a saloon and ordered a bottle. I didn’t put the bottle down until eighteen months ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” They sat in silence for several minutes. Freddy reached a hand across the table and clasped his fingers. “What made you stop drinking?” she asked gently.

  “Maybe I’d punished myself enough,” he said at length. “I took care of the problem with Emile Julie, paid my share of what Lola and I owed him.” He shrugged, and his hand tightened around hers. “The war ended for me the day I saw Emile Julie again. It was time to put my life back together, try to salvage something from a long chain of mistakes.”

  Freddy leaned forward. “We’ll get our cattle to Abilene, Dal. It’s going to mean a fresh start for all of us.” Now she told him about the deal Jack Caldwell had offered her, getting angry again as she did every time she thought about it. “We can’t trust him.”

  “Lola offered to double my fee if I make sure we don’t deliver two thousand beeves.”

  Freddy’s heart stopped. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Then she reminded herself this was Dal, and she knew him. He’d made mistakes in the past, but he wouldn’t make the same mistakes in the future. Not a man who had punished himself for so long.

  She unclenched her fists. “We should keep an eye on the drovers. I don’t think they’d betray us, but who knows? Jack has a talent for finding weak spots.”

  “Freddy?” Dal said in a thick voice. “Thank you for not asking if I accepted Lola’s offer.”

  She held his gaze, and something warm flooded her chest and made her fingers tremble. The shock of suddenly realizing how much she cared for this man shook her deeply. And for the first time she realized she would be sorry to see the drive end, sorry to watch him ride away toward the high mountain meadows of Montana.

  “If you don’t take off that nightgown in the next minute, I’m going to rip it off of you,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t be able to help myself.”

  “What? We’re finished with pretty poetry?” she teased, smiling.

  Standing, he gazed down at her with a look in his eyes that sent a thrill of anticipation shivering through her body. “ ‘Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying.’ ”

  She knew that one. “ ‘And this same flower that smiles to-day, Tomorrow will be dying.’ ” Laughing, she ran to the bed, jumped into the tussled sheets, threw off her nightgown, and opened her arms. He came to her and buried his head between her breasts.

  He spent the rest of the night demonstrating that she still had much to learn about the pleasures between men and women.

  On the first day Les slept around the clock, rousing only briefly to peer around the hotel room before she dropped back to the pillow and slept again. Hunger woke her near suppertime on the second day and she ate ravenously from the tray served by the woman Dal had hired to sit with her. They talked for a while, then Les dozed again. When she awoke near midnight, Mrs. Goodnight dozed in a chair beside the window.

  Folding her hands on top of the sheets, Les leaned against a mound of pillows and gazed at the moonlight shining in the window. In camp, the longhorns would be standing and blowing about now. The night shifts would be changing. Ward was asleep inside his tent.

  Closing her eyes, she lifted both hands to rub her temples. What was she going to do?

  She had promised herself that Ward would be happy when they got Pa’s inheritance—and the hitting would stop. His temper would vanish when they had the money—and the hitting would stop. Once he felt important, felt equal to a Roark, the hitting would stop.

  But in her heart she suspected that she would always be the target for his frustrations and disappointments. And the frustration and disappointment would continue because Ward would never be a man like Pa. He would never be a man that other men respected.

  Alone in the dark she could admit that she no longer respected him either. She wasn’t sure she even liked him anymore. But what could she do?

  He had sold his store and sacrificed everything to accompany her on this drive. And he was her only hope in the event they did not deliver two thousand cattle to the yards in Abilene. If they didn’t win, she would be lost without him. Wouldn’t she?

  It troubled her to recognize that Alex and Freddy would also be lost if they didn’t win Pa’s inheritance, yet she didn’t doubt that her sisters wo
uld somehow survive.

  Staring at the moonlight, she wondered if she, too, could find the determination and courage to build a life for herself without Pa’s money. And without Ward. Such a thought was so foreign that her mind shied away from it. But she forced herself to take a closer look.

  After several minutes, she released a long sigh. She couldn’t see herself clearly anymore. The cattle drive was changing things, changing her. Smothering a yawn, she eased back on the pillows, surprised that the idea of losing Ward didn’t frighten her as it once had.

  In the morning, she enjoyed a long tub bath and washed her hair. Mrs. Goodnight had sent her trail clothes out to be laundered and they smelled fresh when she put them on. When she looked in the mirror, color had returned to her cheeks, not the high gloss of fever, but the pink glow of returning health. Her brown hair had a glossy sheen.

  “A gentleman has arrived for you, Miss.”

  “That will be Mr. Hamm, my fiancé,” she said to Mrs. Goodnight, looking around the room to check if she had forgotten anything.

  “He’s very handsome.”

  “Ward?” Her eyebrows lifted. Maybe Dal had come for her. She hoped so, as she dreaded riding back to the herd with Ward.

  But it was Luther waiting in the tiny hotel lobby. He swept his hat from his head. “Mr. Hamm was engaged, and as I was coming into town anyway, I volunteered to bring you back.”

  Les understood that his explanation was more tact than truth. Ward was punishing her for exercising her will by withholding his company. She smiled up at Luther, realizing that Mrs. Goodnight was correct. His ears were too large and he turned pink beneath his tan when he spoke to women, but he was indeed a handsome man. Odd that she hadn’t really noticed before.

  Looking at him now, it surprised her to notice that he was younger than she had assumed, not at all a contemporary of Pa’s. “Luther, how old are you?” It was a rude question, but she’d known him so long that she didn’t think he would be offended.

  “Forty-two,” he said with a smile. “Old enough to be your father.”

  “If so, you must have been a rogue at seventeen.” The impulsive comment astonished her as it sounded almost flirtatious. He smiled, and the color deepened in his face.

  Picking up her bag, Luther cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “It’s early yet. And I was wondering. Would you like some supper before we drive back to the herd?”

  “If you know a place that will serve a woman dressed as a drover, I’d love to have a meal that isn’t served on tin plates.” She was in no hurry to confront Ward and be subjected to a monologue targeting her faults and detailing how she had failed him.

  Luther took her to a restaurant well away from the gambling halls and saloons that ranged along the main thoroughfare. And she realized at once that he had made prior arrangements, anticipating her attire and requesting a private alcove. His thoughtfulness touched her.

  “I don’t think the Maitre d’ approves of me,” she whispered after they had been seated away from the view of properly gowned ladies. She wondered how large a gratuity Luther had paid the man.

  “You look rested,” Luther said, examining her face. “You must be feeling better.”

  “Much better, thank you.” After consulting the menu, she smiled across the table, enjoying the treat of an evening out. “Did anything interesting happen while I was gone?”

  “The brand inspector paid us a visit. We weren’t in violation, but his official count showed we lost four longhorns that we didn’t know about.”

  Les put down her coffee cup. “Now we have only a 149 margin?” At the beginning of the drive that number would have seemed high. Now it didn’t.

  “James got struck by a rattler, but he was wearing his boots, so he’ll be all right. One of the Webster boys shot a turkey, and Alex prepared everyone a feast last night. And there’s some good news. Dal has decided to put you and Freddy into the rotation.”

  “We don’t have to ride drag anymore?” Les asked, surprised and delighted.

  “You’ll have to take your turn, but you’ll also ride flank positions. Dal will never give you ladies the point, but he’s indicating that you’ve served your apprenticeship.”

  Les raised her coffee cup with a dazzling smile and touched the rim to his. “This is cause for celebration! No more eating dust on a daily basis. No more slogging through churned-up mud.” She laughed. “Freddy and I are turning into real cowboys!”

  Luther stared at her. “You are so beautiful when you smile.” Instantly he flashed fiery red and looked down at his plate. “That was an inappropriate comment, and I apologize.”

  Thunderstruck, Les blinked at him. His ears were bright and his throat had turned crimson. But what astonished her was what he had said. Not even Ward had ever claimed that she was beautiful. She had lost weight on the drive, but she would never be as slender or curvaceous as Freddy, and she would never approach Alex’s elegant beauty. Luther’s compliment was so extravagant, so unexpected and deeply appreciated that it raised a lump to her throat and for one humiliating moment she thought she might cry.

  “Luther,” she said, gazing down at her lap, “you’re such a nice man. Why have you never married?” It mortified her that she, who was too shy and unsure to speak to most men, had now asked him two blunt, rude, and personal questions. Although she had looked forward to the time she spent with him when he paid a business call to the ranch, their discussions had centered on books and music and general matters. They had never spoken of personal things.

  High color continued to glow on his face, but it didn’t occur to him that he could evade her question. He touched his collar, then fixed his gaze on a point above her shoulder. “There was a young lady…” he said uncomfortably. “But young ladies should keep company with young men.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’ve never really felt young, and I don’t dance or do the things that interest young women. She would have found me too old and too dull.”

  “Do you really think age matters when two people love each other?”

  “It wasn’t like that. I never declared myself.” He fiddled with his fork. “I considered speaking, but she seemed disinclined to marry. Eventually, she accepted someone else.”

  “Oh, Luther, I’m sorry.” Impulsively, she reached across the table and pressed his hand. When he stiffened, she withdrew her fingers and blushed at her boldness. “Please forgive me for prying into personal matters. I don’t know what came over me.” She forced a smile. “In so many ways, I don’t feel like the same person who began this cattle drive.”

  From that point they took care to focus their conversation on general topics. By the time they climbed into the wagon, a million stars glittered across the heavens. The air was warm and sweet, and Les took an odd comfort in the sight of the herds gathered onto their bedding grounds, and the low music of cowboy songs floating through the darkness.

  “Luther?” she said as their campfire came into view. “Thank you for the most wonderful evening I’ve had in…” She couldn’t remember the last time she had enjoyed an evening more. Once Ward had taken her to dinner at the Klees Hotel dining room, but the conversation had not flowed easily as it had tonight. Her stomach tightened at the realization that she would see him in a few minutes. He would be sulky, of course, and angry that she had defied him.

  The vitality drained out of her body, and her shoulders dropped. Something had changed the night that everyone saw Ward strike her. She had begun to feel trapped.

  But Ward surprised her. He seemed to have forgotten her defiance. After helping her out of the wagon, he nodded to Luther, then gripped her shoulders, vibrating with excitement. “I need to talk to you right now, it’s important. Our whole future is at stake.”

  She watched Luther walk toward the observers’ camp, then stepped out from under Ward’s grasp. “Could this wait until tomorrow?” She had hoped he might mention that he had missed her, or at least inquire if she’d rested well.

  “I said ri
ght now, Les.” Clasping her wrist, he picked up a lantern he’d set on the ground, then half dragged her out onto the dark prairie and down into a shadowed gully where they couldn’t be seen by either camp.

  Uneasily, Les sat on the dirt slope of the gully and drew up her knees, facing him. The lantern he set to one side illuminated his excitement, and she tried to recall if she had ever seen such jubilation in his gaze.

  “What is it?” she inquired cautiously.

  “Remember that Freddy told you about Caldwell making her an offer to lose some cattle? Well, I spoke to Caldwell and demanded the same deal for us. Les, you won’t believe what he’s offered us!”

  Her heart stopped. “Oh, Ward. How could you!” Horrified, she started to rise, but he grabbed her wrist and jerked her back so roughly that she stumbled and fell against the dirt side of the gully. Not taking her eyes from him, she sat up and slowly brushed off of her shirt. This time she didn’t search for excuses. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Listen! Caldwell promises that Lola will pay us eighty thousand dollars if we help her win.” His pale eyes glittered with exuberance. “Eighty thousand dollars, Les! That’s a fortune! Think of it! If you only knew how worried I’ve been. Our margin is shrinking by the week. With the Red River ahead of us and then the Indian Territory, there’s no way Frisco is going to bring in two thousand steers. No way at all!” He looked up and his gaze hardened in the lanternlight. “And we don’t want him to. I want the son of a bitch to lose. I want him destroyed. This way, Frisco loses sixty thousand dollars and the last of his reputation. This is so sweet!”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Ward, we can’t do this!”

  “I know what you’re thinking. We’re giving up a sum several times that amount.” Leaning forward, he gripped her arms, his eyes gleaming feverishly. “Les, we’d both rather have your father’s fortune, but don’t you understand? It isn’t going to happen. Caldwell is smart. He won’t let Frisco win. But you and I don’t have to lose! All you have to do is look the other way and let a few steers go here and lose a few there. That’s all. Don’t be overly conscientious at river crossings. Let a straggler wander off. Do it, and our future is assured!”