He was silent for a long time. At last he said, “Then you’d have known.”
She pulled herself up and put her arms around him. “I love you, Papa.”
He reached up and squeezed her arm. They didn’t move for a long moment. At last Maggie pulled away.
“So that’s it? That’s why you won’t listen to the men?”
“I can’t pay them more. I used to let them have their little herds. But every maverick a man puts his own brand on is money out of my wallet. I can’t afford that now.”
“It meant so much to them,” Maggie said. “Not just extra income, but the men took pride in their herds.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Now they want more money—money I don’t have.”
“Why don’t you just tell them?” Maggie asked.
“I can’t do that.”
“But Papa, you used to look out for the men. You kept the ranch nice, and you paid them enough for them to live on and tuck away a little for the future. Now they feel as if you don’t care about them.”
“I’ve been so tired,” her father said. “Since your mother died—no, before that. Ever since you went away with her, things have been hard. That was a bad year, and we haven’t recovered financially since then. The bills and all …”
Through the window, she could see the moon rising. She wished they could be outside, enjoying it together.
“Papa, let’s ride out to the roundup camp tomorrow.” Even as she said it, she knew it was impossible. Even if her father felt up to it, his rift with Alex had ruined every possibility of a successful outing.
“The men are striking.”
“Yes, it seems so.” She stood there watching his face, not knowing what to say. She had no solutions to offer. “Can’t we just tell the men that for now things are tight and you can’t raise their pay, but maybe after the drive, if we get a good price for the cattle—”
“They won’t listen.”
“They will if you talk to them man to man. Assure them that you hear their concerns. Maybe even tell them you’ll give them a little bonus after the drive to Fort Worth.”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you, Maggie? I can’t afford a bonus. I can’t even afford to pay them.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe Alex turned on me. I was counting on that boy to keep the men calm until the drive was over.”
“He was upset about Leo and Sela. Papa, what happened? I came home from Carlotta’s today, and Dolores told me Shep took the children to Sela. I thought Dolores was going to keep them for her while she stayed in town with Leo.”
Her father scowled. “Dolores can’t do her work and watch three rowdy little boys. I told you that.”
“But Sela can’t have them with her at the doctor’s office.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Even to Maggie, he sounded cold.
“Papa—”
“Where did you go this afternoon? You missed supper.” Maggie sucked in a deep breath. “I went to town to help Sela.”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to go against me.”
“Papa, she couldn’t afford lodging, or someone to watch the children. If you wouldn’t let her stay here in her own home, I felt I had no choice.”
Her father stood and held up both hands. “Let’s not say any more about this. I’ve put everything I could scrape up into the herd, and I’m counting on the money we get when we sell it to finish paying off the bills. Maybe then I can think about painting the bunkhouse and giving the men a bonus.”
“Will that take care of everything, Papa?” Maggie looked deep into his eyes. “Because if you think there are enough cattle to sell, and if prices are high this year, well then, that should take care of it, right?”
“We won’t know until the end of the drive.”
She nodded, her mind racing. Now was not the time to tell him she’d spent what remained of her personal funds to hire a woman to watch the Eagleton children for Sela. “All right. What if you ask the men to continue at the wages you’re giving them now, and if the drive goes well, you’ll give them extra when it’s over?”
“I can’t promise them that. What if there’s barely enough to pay the hospital bills?”
“Then, we tell them at the sanatorium that we’re paying what we can, and we’ll pay the rest next year.”
“No. No, I can’t carry any bills over until next year.”
“Why not? If you can’t pay it all now, you just can’t. That’s it. Won’t they take what you can give them and wait for the rest? I mean, if you send as much as you can, that will be a sign that you intend to pay it all eventually.”
“I said I can’t do that.”
Maggie winced at his angry tone.
Papa put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked out of the room.
Maggie followed, her steps dragging. She felt adrift. Her father had been the one solid thing in her life—Papa and the ranch.
No one had lit the lamps in the parlor, and the room was dark. Light still spilled from the kitchen doorway, and Maggie walked slowly toward it. Dolores was covering a large pottery bowl with a linen towel. She looked up and saw Maggie in the doorway.
“Buenos noches, chica. You look so sad. What is wrong?” Maggie stepped into the kitchen and sat down on a stool near Dolores’s worktable. “It’s Papa. I don’t understand him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t act like himself. I talked to him just now, and he’s worried about money. Did you know about that, Dolores? He’s afraid he won’t be able to pay the bills from the sanatorium. I had no idea Mama’s treatment cost so much.”
Dolores gave her a sad smile. “They had a new treatment, but it was expensive. He wanted to try it, to give your mama every chance. I know he is worried. But I’m glad he talked to you.”
Hot tears burned in Maggie’s eyes. “If I’d had any idea, I’d never have let him pay for my trip to San Francisco. But when I was home last fall—when we had the funeral—he didn’t say anything about it. He wanted me to go. In fact, I wanted to stay here with him on the ranch, but he insisted. He said it would be good for me.”
“Oh, my sweet Maggie.” Dolores came to her and gave her a hug. “I am so sorry. After your mama’s death, he saw how sad you were, and that made his grief worse. You were a brave girl to stay with her all those months while she got weaker and weaker. I think your papa wanted you to go to a new place and have happy times with your cousin.”
“Yes, I expect you’re right. He wanted me to forget all the bad times. But I’m glad I could be with Mama then, Dolores. And I’ll never regret being with her through those last months of her illness.”
“Of course not. But you had some other things to think about in San Francisco, no?”
“Yes. Distractions. That’s what he wanted for me, wasn’t it?”
“I think so.”
Maggie nodded. “But Papa didn’t have any distractions. He had to stay here and worry about the money I was spending.”
“Oh, do not say that. He wanted you to go, and to have pretty clothes and see the sights. Do not be sorry that you went.”
“I am sorry. This has made Papa into a different person. He’s so … so angry. If I’d stayed here, we would have spent less, and maybe I could have helped him stay happy.” She shook her head. “Not happy after Mama died. That’s not what I mean. But … I just don’t understand this.” The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Dolores handed her a handkerchief.
“There, my dear one. You mustn’t cry. Your papa, he doesn’t feel well. You cannot blame him for being different than he was when you went away.”
“He’s been sick?” Maggie stared at her. “I did wonder. He’s lost weight, hasn’t he? And he doesn’t look healthy. I thought it was because he hasn’t been out riding the range with the men.”
“Maybe it is partly from that, but I th
ink it is more the opposite.”
“What—?”
Dolores sighed. “He does not go out riding because he is ill. He is very tired and ill.”
“Now you’re scaring me. Has he seen a doctor?”
“Oh, yes. The doctor comes every week.”
Alarmed, Maggie crumpled the handkerchief. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”
Dolores shook her head. “He does not tell me. Shep either. But I think it is bad, and I am glad you are home now.”
Maggie stared at her for a moment then wiped away her fresh tears. “This is not fair. I came home three days ago, and I had no idea any of this was going on. I mean … when I was here last fall, we were all preoccupied with Mama’s death and the service.”
“That is natural.”
“Yes, but was Papa sick then? I thought he seemed thinner and sadder, but I figured that was because of Mama dying. I felt sort of that way myself.”
“I think he probably wasn’t feeling well then. Last summer he seemed not to be so … active.” Dolores arched her eyebrows in question. “And the money trouble, I think it started before that.”
Maggie nodded. “I understand. He told me he’d sunk everything into the herd, hoping he can pay off the bills for Mama’s treatment after the cattle are sold. But his health … He’s only forty-seven. He’s not exactly old. And if he’s got the doctor coming every week—”
“That is only for the last month or so. And I have heard him say to Dr. Vargas that he should not drive out here so often, but the doctor wants to come. He gives him medicine, but your papa does not have me fix it for him. He does it himself. Powders, I think.”
Maggie stood and shoved the handkerchief into her pocket. “Well, I’m going to find out exactly what’s going on.”
She marched out of the living room and crossed the big parlor. The door to her father’s office was open. She glanced inside, but he wasn’t there.
She went down the hallway and paused outside his bedroom. She felt horribly alone. Never before had she been on the opposite side of anything from Papa. In some ways, it felt worse than when she knew Mama was dying.
Lord, help me. Show me what to say.
She raised her hand and knocked.
“What?” he asked gruffly.
“It’s Maggie. May I come in?”
After a moment she heard the bed creak. “Come ahead.” She opened the door. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tousled.
“What is it?”
She stood before him, feeling guilty for no reason whatsoever. She hauled in a deep breath.
“Papa, I just found out that Dr. Vargas comes to see you often.”
“So?”
“So I want to know what’s going on. Dolores says you are ill, but she doesn’t know what the trouble is. Please tell me.”
“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
Tears threatened to overwhelm her again. Oh, please Lord! Instead, she grasped at the anger that warred with the sadness inside her. “It is my business. This is my home, and you are all the family I have left. If you’re going to be sick and I end up having to make decisions about the ranch, it will certainly be my business! You have no right to keep things from me. Now tell me!”
He started shaking his head when she was halfway through her tirade. By the time she’d finished, his face was dark red and he was struggling to rise.
“Don’t get up, Papa. Just stay calm and tell me.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he sank back onto the bed. He was silent for a moment, avoiding her gaze. At last he looked up at her.
“I hoped we’d never have to have this conversation.”
“Well, we do, Papa.” The tears came, but she didn’t care anymore. “Please talk to me! What is it?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Cancer.”
Maggie clenched her teeth.
“There’s no cure,” he said.
She sobbed. “Papa!”
He opened his arms, and she sat down beside him and buried her face against his shoulder. She cried for several minutes, unable to stop. At last she sat up and pulled out the crumpled handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
Tears streaked his face, too. “Oh, Maggie, I hate this. I wanted to leave you a working ranch in good shape, not a pile of debts. And now the boys are threatening to walk out on us. I can’t stand it. If it weren’t for you …”
“What?” she asked, a new terror striking her.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She hugged him again. “Papa, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry about the ranch. It’s you I need.”
“But you won’t have me for long, whether we like it or not. It’s what made me tell you to come home, even though I knew you’d have a better time in San Francisco than you would here.”
“No, Papa. I’m glad I came home. I wouldn’t give up this time with you for anything. We’ll work out something with the men.”
He shook his head. “I don’t see how. We can’t give them what they want. And Alex! I never thought he’d do this to me.”
“But if you told him why—”
“No! You mustn’t.”
She pulled away and studied his ashen face. “But why not, Papa? If the men knew you’re sick—”
“I couldn’t face them. Please, honey. Let me have this little bit of dignity.”
She swallowed hard, her mind racing. “All right, Papa.” She kissed his cheek, unable to say more.
CHAPTER SIX
When Alex rode into camp at last, only an hour was left before it was time to change the night riders. As tired as he was from the long ride to the ranch and back, he knew he couldn’t sleep. One of the other men might as well get some rest. He exchanged Red for another horse from the remuda and trotted to the holding pens, where he met Nevada in the starlight.
“Turn in if you want. I’ll take over.”
“You’re early,” Nevada said.
“I was awake anyhow. Figured I might as well be out here.”
“What did Porter say?”
“No change.”
Nevada peered at him in the moonlight. “So you’re really going to strike with us?”
“I’m thinking about it seriously.”
“It’s all I think about now,” Nevada said.
Alex looked out over the quiet herd milling in the pens. “I never thought it was right to do something like that. To go against the man who’s fed us and taken care of us for years.”
“What he’s doing isn’t right. He betrayed us.”
“I understand your feelings.”
“Do you? We’ve been friends a long time, Alex. I always liked it here, and I like the people I work with. But I was earning a living. Now I’m not.”
Alex blew out a long breath. “Go and get some shut-eye.”
“Sure. But you know that if you don’t walk with us, the boys are going to think you’re as bad as Porter.”
“If I don’t side with you, it will be because I think God would have me stick with my employer.”
“Oh, we’re bringing God into this?”
Alex studied him in the moonlight. “How can you not?”
Nevada shrugged. “I figure God put us here on this earth to work. Porter’s not letting us do that. He’s wrong. Period.”
“So God is on your side.”
“That’s the way I see it.”
Nevada rode off toward the camp, and Alex watched him go. Would God really pick sides in this? More likely, He expected them to settle the matter peacefully. Neither side was going to budge, so far as Alex could see, and he was caught in the middle.
He rode slowly along the fence outside the holding pen. All was quiet tonight. He wished he’d brought his Bible out here, but he’d left it in his bedroll. Probably wasn’t enough light to read by, anyway. He tried to remember the verses in Paul’s letters about working for your master and doing what h
e said. Was he talking to slaves? Or to regular working men? Alex knew there were verses about working and not being lazy and providing for your family. But was it wrong to strike when the boss wouldn’t pay you a decent wage? And was he, as foreman, wrong to sympathize with the men?
He figured he knew where Maggie stood in all this. As Porter’s daughter, she’d come down on his side, no matter what. She’d lost her mother, and Martin Porter was all the family she had left. Alex didn’t know as he blamed her.
She was a very smart woman. At least, she’d been a smart girl. She’d said she could have convinced her father to listen to them. Did that mean she was advocating for the men? Maybe he should have listened. If he and Maggie had joined forces, they could have done something together.
Well, it was too late to go that route now.
He rode along, paying no mind to his horse or the cattle, slouching in the saddle. He met up with Tommy and exchanged laconic greetings. After a bit, Early rode out to take Tommy’s place.
“Howdy,” Alex said, and rode off toward the far end of the fence so he wouldn’t have to talk to the older man.
When their relief came four hours later, Alex and Early rode back to the camp for breakfast. They were met by Nevada and the rest of the men. Alex could feel their unrest as he handed his mount over to Joe.
“We’re done here, Alex,” Nevada said.
Alex eyed him carefully and decided there was no changing his mind. He looked around at the others. “Does that go for all of you?”
“It sure does,” Harry Jensen said.
Several of the others added their assent. A couple of them hung back and seemed to watch the others for cues. Bronc Tracey, the tall, dark-skinned cowboy was one, as was Stewie, their cook.
Alex shook his head. “I’d hate to see you do it. Boys, we agreed to do this job. You ought to at least finish the roundup. Don’t leave it half done.”
“We’re going,” Nevada said. “And as much as I like you, Alex, if you don’t go with us, we won’t let you stop us.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “We’ll be sorry, but we’ve made up our minds. We’re going, and that’s that.”
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