“We lost fifty-eight,” he said, anticipating her next question.
She nodded grimly and glanced down at the handkerchief she was twisting in her lap. “It’s been a long rough day and we’re all tired, so I’ll save the questions for another time. I just want to tell you that Freddy will recover.” Her eyes briefly closed then opened. “And there’s something—”
“John McCallister,” he guessed.
“Yes.” Bright pink flooded her face, obvious even in the glow of flames reflecting across her throat and forehead. “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly. “He won’t leave.”
They both looked up as John walked out of the darkness. He reached up on the side of the wagon, then removed a tool that he handed to Dal. Dal recognized the King’s Walk branding iron.
Turning the iron in his hands, he studied McCallister’s face. The blank, almost dreaming look was gone. McCallister’s gaze connected now. He carried himself differently.
“I think he’s giving us his cows,” Alex explained quietly.
“I’ll take them,” Dal said promptly. “I don’t believe there’s any prohibition against accepting cattle as a gift, but I’ll check with Luther.”
John nodded and stepped back, dropping a hand to Alex’s shoulder. Alex gazed at Dal. “When you speak to Luther, please ask him to add John to our list of observers,” she requested in a low voice, raising a hand to cover John’s fingers on her shoulder.
Dal had seen this coming, had thought about it. “John’s expenses will be deducted from your share of the inheritance. If we don’t deliver the right number of beeves,” he shrugged. “Then the widow Roark gets stuck with the extra expense.”
Alex smiled and nodded. Her next words, Dal suspected, were meant more for John than for him. “John and I will part in Abilene. But for the moment, we enjoy each other’s company.”
Dal extended his hand and clasped John McCollister’s palm. “Thank you for everything you did today. I’m glad you’re with us.”
Sensing they wanted privacy, he walked away. He didn’t feel like joining the drovers gathered around the fire, didn’t feel like riding out to check on the night watch although he would later. Glancing toward the observers’ campfire, he noted that no one slept there either. Les and Ward sat silently beside the embers. He spotted Luther and Caldwell hunched over coffee.
Straightening his shoulders, he adjusted the pistol on his hip, then crossed the grassy patch separating the two camps. Eyes burning down on Caldwell’s scabbed lip, he told them both about John’s three cows and Alex’s request to add John to the observer list.
Luther shrugged. “There’s no mention in Joe’s conditions prohibiting someone from giving cattle to the drive.”
Caldwell faced Dal. “If there isn’t a ruling against it, there should be.”
The red fell across his vision like a curtain and he wanted to slam his fist in Caklwell’s face. “If we can accept strays, we should be able to accept a gift.”
Luther glanced at their expressions, then stepped between them. “That’s correct. I’m ruling that you can accept McCallister’s three cows.”
“I want to file an official protest,” Caldwell snapped, staring at Dal.
“Your objection is noted,” Luther answered. His gaze was cold. “As for Alex’s request that I add McCallister to our list of observers… it doesn’t appear that McCallister intends to leave in any case,” he observed drily.
“Three cows aren’t going to help you, Frisco,” Caldwell said with a sneer. “We both know you’re going to lose that many and more crossing Red River.”
He did know. His hands felt hot, tingled with the urge to smash the smirk off Caldwell’s cracked lip. He started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “No one was there before me,” he said softly. “If I ever again hear you malign the lady, you’ll wish to hell you hadn’t.”
A dark flush rose to surround Caldwell’s pale mustache. “I’m getting tired of your threats, Frisco.”
“Then let’s take it out there,” he said, nodding toward the starlit range, “and settle things right now.”
When Caldwell only stared, Dal let his gaze drop to the scab on Caldwell’s lip and he smiled before he returned to check on Freddy. Then he rode out to join the night watch.
The broken country in the Red River valley was the most beautiful land Les had yet seen. Stands of pine and cottonwood sprang up in clumps, spring rains had polished the range to an emerald green sparkling with wildflowers.
She would never have seen this beauty if Joe hadn’t structured his will as he had. She would have missed so much if Pa had just handed them his fortune with no strings attached.
She wouldn’t have learned to ride, would never have slept beneath a starry sky, would never have enjoyed the burning shine of sunlight on her face and hands. Never would she have learned to admire or respect the steel-hooved longhorns that Pa had taken such pride in.
Gazing ahead, she watched the herd plodding along ahead of her, tails curled over their backs, their long heads swaying. She would never have believed that she could develop something approaching affection for the bony, coarse-haired, narrow hipped, big-eared cattle. She suspected that’s what Pa had hoped for, that she and Alex and Freddy would learn to care about these contrary animals as he had.
Most of all, if Pa had simply given them his fortune, Les would never have gotten to know her sisters. Or learned to love them.
After wiping sweat from her forehead, she rode over to Freddy and turned Cactus up beside Walker. “How are you feeling today?” she asked, glancing at the dusty sling cradling Freddy’s arm close to her chest. “Better?”
“Well enough that I don’t need a nursemaid anymore,” Freddy said with a smile. “But it was nice of you to request drag so you could keep an eye on me.” She sighed. “This still hurts like a bugger. Les, did you ever think that we’d come out of this with actual scars?”
Keeping an eye on the stragglers and occasionally nudging them to a faster pace, they rode together, comparing their wounds, talking about rabbits and coyotes they’d spotted, speculating about Alex and John. Les would have given everything she owned to tell Freddy about Jack Caldwell’s offer, and how Ward was threatening, hitting her, and insisting every day that she “lose” some beeves. But Freddy would have exploded. She would have told Dal no matter how strongly Les pleaded with her not to. Freddy wouldn’t mean to, but she would set in motion a chain of events that would end in Les’s murder. Despairing, she tried not to think about any of it.
“Les?” Freddy said in a low voice as they drove their stragglers onto the bedding gounds at the end of the day. “Getting shot scared me. It made me think about dying and… you know, things.” She looked down at her sling and a flood of pink rose from her throat. “I just want you to know… I’m very glad we had this time together. I haven’t been much of a sister or a friend to you in the past, but I want to be in the future.”
An answering pink invaded Les’s cheeks. “I’ve said so many awful things to you.”
“If I remember right, you had provocation.” Freddy looked embarrassed. “I got my licks in. I’ve said some awful things, too, and I regret that, Les.”
Maybe they would never be able to say the words aloud, but the emotion was there and Les felt it. Needing to state her own version of I love you, she drew a breath and looked ahead, watching Dal ride toward the campsite. “He’s a good man, Freddy.” A wistful desperation ran beneath her tone. “I hope things between the two of you work out the way you want them to.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.” Wincing, she adjusted her sling, then watched Dal riding toward the chuck wagon. “But I’ve decided life is short, and I’m going to live it the way I want to, not the way other people think I should. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Les did understand. Freddy intended to follow her heart even if the road was a short one that ended in Abilene. Once Les would have taken a high tone of moral superiority,
would have snapped out a judgmental and scathing reply. Now, she examined her own heart and tried to be as honest as she could. “What you do doesn’t change who you are,” she said finally. “And who you are is a sister I admire and respect.”
Tears glistened in Freddy’s eyes. She had waited years to hear those words.
Chapter 20
Initially Alex had feared Jack Caldwell would register a protest when John took over her doctoring duties, but after Caldwell asked John to treat his cracked lip, her concern abated. Without discussing it, everyone accepted John as the outfit’s doctor and the drovers brought him their injuries, mostly of a minor nature such as small burns, lacerations, cuts, and sprains.
The worse injury had been Freddy’s wound, and removing the bullet from her shoulder had been profoundly disturbing for John. Performing the surgery had forced him to face the reasons he had retreated from civilization. He had been different since that night. Alex would have said that he’d become quieter if that statement could be applied to a man who didn’t speak.
But that’s how it seemed to her. He rode beside Alex on the seat of the chuck wagon but oftentimes he was miles away in another time and place. At other times she noticed him examining his long slender fingers with a frown. Twice the drovers had brought him wounds to tend, and she had seen him instinctively balk and withdraw in his mind. Both times he had treated the men, but she had witnessed the inner battle he waged before he could force himself to do so. He was winning his war, but the victories came hard.
Alex slowed the mules after the pilot waved her off near the head of a small creek. There was no hurry to set up the nooning camp, as she planned rabbit stew using cooked rabbit leftover from the previous night. The meal would come together quickly. Personally, Alex didn’t care for rabbit, but the drovers were happy to receive a little variety, thanks to Luther’s hunting skills.
Easing the mules to a walk, she smiled up at a hot cloudless sky. Oddly, the open spaces didn’t alarm her as they once had. Perhaps it was because they were seeing more timber now, passing stands of oak. Or possibly it was because she had confessed her secret to the people who mattered most, and she didn’t feel the need to hide as she had when they began this journey.
So many changes had occurred since they all rode away from King’s Walk. Occasionally she thought about her father and believed she understood why he had insisted on the cattle drive. She and her sisters were no longer the frivolous soft women they had been.
“Win or lose, I’ll always be grateful that I had this experience,” she said, after sharing her thoughts with John. “Without it, I would have missed so much. I would never have known Freddy or Les or myself. Or you,” she added in a softer voice.
She braked the wagon near the willows lining the banks of the creek and reached for her crutch and her pistol. Ready for the noon snake hunt, a chore she truly enjoyed, she prepared to climb down from the seat, but John placed his hand on hers.
Ignoring the tingle in her fingers, she turned to smile at him, drinking in the sight of his deeply tanned, strong face and the grey eyes that could say so much. Before meeting him, she wouldn’t have believed that a man who didn’t speak could offer such depth of companionship. Nor would she have believed that she could ever feel this powerful a connection to a man.
Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to fully face him. The expression in his eyes, on his lips, was one she hadn’t seen before. “John? Is something wrong?”
Then she understood and her breath caught in her throat. He was going to kiss her. Her first confused thought was: Why here and why now? Followed swiftly by: No, I can’t allow this.
But she couldn’t move away from him. The only sound she heard was that of her heart pounding rapidly in anticipation of a kiss she had both dreaded and longed for. A hundred times she had wondered how she would respond if this moment ever arrived.
There was no doubt what she should do. She should remember Payton and that terrible night. Payton would never again experience the thrill of a kiss, would never enjoy any of life’s pleasures. And neither should she.
But heaven forgive her, she yearned for John’s mouth on hers, had dreamed of his arms around her since the stampede. She couldn’t make herself resist. Helplessly, she watched as his gaze lingered caressingly on her lips then traveled up to her eyes. “I thought if this happened, it would be at night,” she whispered, trembling beneath his hands on her shoulders, “not in the full blaze of the noon sun.”
His hands slid down the sleeves of her shirtwaist and gently he guided her into his arms, pressing her against his chest. A low sigh escaped Alex’s lips and sudden tears sparkled on her lashes. It felt so good—so wonderfully good!—to feel his strong body pressed to hers, to feel his arms holding her. Winding her arms around his neck, she closed her eyes. To be embraced, safe in a man’s arms when she had never expected it to happen again, this would be enough.
Time sheltered their embrace, enfolding them within a summer-scented capsule that felt endless and theirs alone. The fragrance of grass and sunlight and nearby water sweetened each breath. Theirs was the music of birds and the lazy buzz of insects and the beating of two hearts. Yes, she thought, she didn’t need more. This would be enough.
Raising his hands, John tenderly framed her face, his fingertips as light on her skin as the caress of a breeze. He gazed at her, and no words had ever been as eloquent as the message she read in his eyes. He loved her. This splendid wonderful man loved her.
Leaning forward, he touched his mouth lightly to hers, enough to taste her without startling her. Alex’s breast rose, and her heartbeat quickened. A sound that was almost a sob, almost a gasp, sighed past her lips, and she leaned into him, supporting her body against his chest. He loved her. Helplessly, she parted her lips and her head fell back.
This time his kiss was full and provocative, summoning sensations she had believed, had hoped, were submerged too deeply to be awakened. But his fingers on her face, his mouth, his lips, stirred slumbering emotions and coaxed them to life. His hands moved to cup her head, to spread across her spine, and he crushed her against him as their kisses deepened.
Only when the pounding hooves of the remuda penetrated their absorption in each other did they ease apart and stare at each other.
“My God,” Alex whispered, lifting trembling fingers to her lips.
Payton had never kissed her as John just had. No man had kissed her like that. His kisses had blended tenderness and passion, emotion and desire.
“Well gol-dang,” Grady shouted as the remuda trotted past the wagon. “Ain’t you two got nothing better to do than sit and admire the scenery?” He scowled at Alex’s bright cheeks. “You got some hungry punchers coming along not far behind me.”
She peeked at John’s grin and laughed. “Almost caught.” Reaching for her crutch, she poked at the grass to scare away snakes, then hurried to her chores with a smile on her lips.
The day was glorious. The hot sun felt wonderful on her face, and she hardly noticed the ubiquitous mosquitoes that plagued her whenever she was in camp. All she could think about was John’s lips on hers, the solid heat and power of his body. And what she had read in his eyes.
In retrospect, it was inevitable that her happiness could not last. The instant she looked down at her worktable and saw her wedding ring, reality and guilt brought her crashing to earth.
Because of how he had died, she would always be Payton Mills’s wife.
Until death do us part did not apply to a wife who had caused her husband’s death. She was tied to Payton forever, bound more tightly by guilt than they had been bound in life.
The gold band on her finger caught the sunlight and flashed accusation at her.
Swaying, she gripped the worktable. When the dizziness passed, she lifted her head and cast a frantic glance around the noon camp, looking for John. She had to tell him that he must leave. The temptation was too great. Being near him was too heavy a punishment to bear.
/> But she didn’t see him. For the last ten days, he had mysteriously vanished during the noon meal, off doing something he clearly did not want her to know about. Frustrated, she struck the worktable with her fist. Already she felt a wave of weakness submerging her resolve.
When Freddy came past the worktable and held out her plate, she paused and peered at Alex’s face. “Are you all right?”
“It’s John,” she said, staring down at a skillet of biscuits. The urge to tell someone, to say the words aloud overwhelmed her. “Oh, Freddy, I love him.”
Freddy’s eyebrows shot up, and she smiled broadly. “That’s wonderful!”
“It’s the worst thing that could have happened to me!” Taking up her crutch, she gripped the handle and stumbled toward the creek to be alone with her conscience.
“Im worried about Alex and Les,” Freddy commented, carrying her plate of beans away from the noon fire. Beans and bacon were a staple of cattle drives, but she had reached a point where she would have been happy never to see another bean.
“What’s going on?” Dal asked, walking beside her.
“I think Alex is going to end up making a sad mistake,” she said, frowning. “As for Les, something has changed.”
“Is Ward beating her?” Dal’s tone was sharp though he seemed distracted. As always, his eyes were not still. He scanned the herd, glanced toward the other two outfits waiting to cross the river.
The Red River was in full rampage, flooding its banks. One herd camped ahead, another had backed up behind them. Everyone waited for the spring floodwaters to recede, but they couldn’t delay more than another day before the range would be grazed out. Tempers frayed as drovers fought to keep their stock from mingling with other herds, worried about quicksand and the upcoming crossing.
“I don’t know,” Freddy said. Rolling her eyes in disgust, she poured the rest of her beans on the ground. “Les has always seemed apprehensive toward Ward, but lately she seems almost terrified.”
The Best Man Page 30