The Best Man

by Maggie Osborne

  Freddy nodded and smiled, and blinked hard. She clutched Dal’s hand so tightly that her knuckles whitened.

  Then Alex drew a deep breath, and tossed her crutch into the flames. The drovers made a hissing sound between their teeth, and Freddy gasped, but Alex didn’t fall. She pulled back her shoulders, standing straight and tall, her head high, her hips aligned, her shining eyes on John McCallister.

  When he started forward, she smiled and shook her head. Then, pressing her lips in determination, she took the first step toward him, wobbled and threw out her arms for balance, then steadied her gaze on his face, and took another step. And then another.

  Dal threw back his head and shouted the Rebel cry. The drovers erupted in applause and wild cheers as Alex stumbled and fell forward into John’s arms. He caught her and swept her into a fierce embrace, burying his face in her hair. Coffee cups lifted in shouted toasts, hats sailed into the air, and everyone rushed forward to pat Alex and offer encouragement and congratulations. In the melee, Freddy spotted Les sobbing happily against Luther’s chest. She, too, was weeping.

  Dashing at the tears swimming in her eyes, Freddy watched as John led her sister away from the fire, seeking privacy. Arms wound around each other, gazing into each other’s eyes, they walked north, toward the future. And Freddy didn’t doubt that Alex would master the wooden leg as she had mastered so many other things.

  Dal wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on top of her head. “Whatever you said to her, however you helped… I’m glad.”

  “Me too,” she said softly, watching as Alex stumbled and John caught her. She heard them laughing, saw them turn to each other and melt into one silhouette. Dropping her head, she blinked at Dal’s hard brown hands clasped at her waist.

  Alex had John. Les had Luther. Freddy had a few more days.

  The long hard journey was over.

  They bedded the herd on the banks of the Smoky Hill River, two and a half miles outside of Abilene, Kansas. In the morning, they would lead the longhorns down the town’s main street to the Great Western loading pens, where the cattle would be counted, weighed on a pair of ten-ton Fairbanks scales, then loaded into railroad cars bound for Chicago.

  It was tradition to spend the last night sitting around the campfire, reminiscing about the high and low points of the drive, laughing at exaggerations and the beginnings of new tall tales that would be told around other fires on other drives. Freddy listened as long as she could, then she realized the tears hanging in her eyes were putting a damper on the last-night frivolities.

  Silently, she left the campfire and walked out on the range, wanting to see the dark silhouettes of the cattle one last time, wanting to listen to the soft sound of chewing cuds and occasional blowing.

  As she had hoped, Dal followed her into the darkness, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist. Together, they listened to the night watch singing end-of-the-trail laments in low melodious voices to the dozing animals.

  Each night since Wichita, they had walked away from the fire in search of a place to be alone together. But their lovemaking had possessed a desperate quality that wasn’t wholly satisfying. Tonight, Freddy knew, would be the worst. Tonight would be the last time. Closing her eyes, she leaned against his chest and warned herself not to spoil the last night with tears. There would be time for tears later.

  “Dal? I could go to Montana. I’d like ranching, I really know I would. It isn’t like before. Now I know longhorns, and I know what ranching is all about.”

  He lowered his head to her ear and kissed her temple. “You’d hate the snow and cold winters. There’s no town large enough to support a theater, Freddy.” After a while, he said, “There must be some ranches near San Francisco.” When she told him she thought the land was largely agricultural, he fell silent for a period. “Maybe there’s something I could do in town.”

  “Nothing you would love like you love ranching and cowboying.” It was hopeless and they both knew it. They’d had this conversation before and were just repeating what had already been said, looking for an answer they might have overlooked.

  “I love you, Freddy. This is killing me.”

  “Oh, Dal. I’m no good at acting, and owning a theater is a stupid idea anyway. Let me come with you to Montana. I can give up everything but you.”

  “Freddy? Dal?” Les walked out of the darkness, pushing Alex in her chair. “We want to talk to you.” Freddy reluctantly stepped out of Dal’s arms. “Alex? Tell them what we decided.”

  Moonlight gleamed in Alex’s hair as she leaned to set the chair’s brake. “First, I haven’t had a relapse, I just didn’t want to go stumbling across a dark prairie on a new leg looking for you two and falling down every two minutes.”

  “They don’t care about that,” Les said impatiently. “Ask them.”

  “Ask us what?” Freddy said, frowning.

  “I’ll tell it my own way,” Alex said to Les. “John and I will leave for Boston from Abilene, as soon as Luther finishes the paperwork involved with the final settlement of Father’s will. We hope to visit the West from time to time, but we’ll make our home back East.” She glanced at Les. “Les and Luther plan to enlarge Luther’s home and raise their family in Klees. This leaves us with a problem, because Les and I don’t want to sell King’s Walk. Father built the ranch, and he loved it. He set up this drive, I think, because he hoped we would learn to love ranching, too. Les and I do, and Freddy, we think you do, too.”

  Oh God. She caught a glimmer of where this was leading. Standing up straight, she fixed her gaze on her sisters’ smiles.

  “Les and I want to keep King’s Walk in the family, but John is a doctor, and Luther is an attorney, and neither wish to give up satisfying professions to become a rancher. So, we need the best boss in Texas to run the ranch. Dal, we want you to take over King’s Walk. If it should happen that my sister decides Klees might appreciate a theater more than San Francisco, which has plenty of them, and if it should happen that the two of you recognize you belong together and want to live on the ranch, that would make us very happy. Regardless, Dal, if Freddy agrees, we’d like you to take over King’s Walk. Unless, of course, you have your heart set on setting up your own spread in Montana.”

  Freddy peered at his face through the starlight. “My God,” she breathed. “Why didn’t we see it. A theater in Klees would be a success before the first curtain ever rose. The closest competition is a hundred miles away.” Her eyes sparkled. “The same people who snubbed me will love me for bringing them a theater, Shakespeare, and some culture!”

  He stared back at her. “I could spend a lifetime and not build a ranch as fine as King’s Walk. The minute I saw Joe’s spread, I knew that’s what—”

  Freddy jumped on him and kissed him hard on the mouth. “I want you in the front row for the opening night of every new play. And I want to go with you on at least one drive a year.”

  Dal pulled her to her feet and swung her in a circle that ended with him crushing her against his chest and kissing her long and deep. “We’re going to build the best damned theater Texas ever saw!”

  “And the best damned ranch west of the Mississippi!”

  “I believe they have accepted our offer,” Alex said drily.

  Laughing, Les released the brake on Alex’s chair, then gripped the handles. “As Freddy would say if she wasn’t kissing and carrying on, I believe it’s time to exit this scene.”

  They had almost reached the campsite before Freddy caught up to them. She dragged Les around to the front of Alex’s chair and fiercely hugged them both, laughing and crying. “Thank you! I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t… I love you both so much!”

  Caressing their hands, their dear faces, she tried to tell them what knowing them meant to her, and how much she loved them both. “Alex! Promise that you and John will come home at least once a year. And Les, we won’t let anything stand in the way of seeing each other once a week!”


  Alex gripped Freddy’s and Les’s hands, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m going to miss you both like life itself. As soon as John and I establish our home, you must come—”

  “Frederick Roark!” Dal shouted. “Get your fanny back over here. A naked cowboy wants to talk to you about a wedding!”

  They looked toward the bedding grounds and laughed. Freddy embraced her sisters, holding each of them next to her heart for a long tearful moment. She kissed them both, then ran into the darkness toward her future and a man she could not live without.

  There was no desperation in their lovemaking tonight. There was passion and tenderness and joy and promises and love enough to fill the vast prairies.

  The last day dawned hot and bright. Excitement quivered in the air as the last campfire was smothered, the chuck wagon was packed for the last time, and the drovers cinched up their saddles for the final short drive.

  Dal cantered around the herd, taking one last count, making sure, then he made a decision he would be proud of for the rest of his life. Smiling, he instructed Grady to saddle another horse and he beckoned a puzzled Freddy and Les to follow him. He trotted to the chuck wagon and reined in beside Alex, who was seated with the mule’s reins in her lap, ready to drive out.

  “Ladies, you’ve been shot, gashed, almost trampled. I’ve asked a lot from all of you on this drive, and you’ve never let me down.” He looked at Alex. “I’m about to ask one more thing. You told me you used to ride. Can you do it again? Do you think you can stay on a horse for two and a half miles?”

  “Mr. Frisco,” Alex said softly, and with obvious affection, “by now you should know that my sisters and I left the words ‘I can’t’ way behind us. We can do anything.”

  “Here’s what I want you to do…”

  Freddy listened, and tears sprang into her eyes. She would love him for the rest of her life, but she couldn’t imagine ever loving him more than she did this minute.

  Alex’s face lit in a radiant smile. “Thank you, Dal. I’ll always be grateful for this.”

  The outfit waited while John helped her mount, then Dal shouted to his drovers.

  “Caleb and Bill, you ride swing. Drinkwater and Charlie and Peach, you take the flanks. Dan and James, pick up the drag.” He waved his hat and pointed it north. “Let’s move this herd.”

  “Who’s taking the point, boss?” Grady called with a grin that said he knew.

  “Joe Roark’s daughters will take ’em in.”

  Dal held his hat against his chest as the drovers cheered. There wasn’t a man in the outfit who didn’t recognize that Joe’s daughters had earned the right to take the point, not a man who didn’t remove his hat in respect as Freddy, Les, and Alex cantered to the front of the herd.

  Riding abreast, tall and proud in their saddles, the Roark sisters led two thousand Texas longhorns into Abilene, Kansas, and down the main street. No one who saw them that day ever forgot them.

  ALSO BY MAGGIE OSBORNE

  The Wives of Bowie Stone

  The Seduction of Samantha Kincade

  The Promise of Jenny Jones

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Welcome

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Also by Maggie Osborne

  Newsletters

  Copyright

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 1998 by Maggie Osborne

  Cover copyright © 2014 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  ISBN 978-1-4555-8852-7

  E3