When she emerged from her reverie, Luther had gone, and her sisters were rousing themselves from a shocked lethergy.
Alex looked at Freddy. “There’s no point in moving back to your place in town. You might as well stay on here. This is where you’ll be learning to”—she waved a slender, listless hand—“do all those things Mr. Frisco mentioned.”
Freddy’s heart sank. She had been counting the days until she could leave the ranch and get away from her sisters. Sighing, she said, “I’ll send someone to pick up the rest of my things.”
How were they going to get through this without killing each other?
Chapter 3
How could she possibly manage? Any attempt to visualize herself participating in a cattle drive terrified Alex as much as the fear of losing her share of the inheritance.
“Don’t think about it,” she whispered, pulling a warm shawl tighter around her shoulders.
Because of a recent cold spell, the night air was chilly, and a slight breeze carried the odor of cattle and manure from the barn to the front porch, where she sat. As a child she had hated the pungent stink of cattle and the unsettling sense of limitless space. She still did. It occurred to her that she had spent most of her life dreaming about escaping from the smells and open spaces of Texas, and she had almost made it.
Lifting a hand to her forehead, she closed her eyes. The differences between the East and West were profound. In Boston, people would be dressing for dinner at this hour, preparing to dine. Here, it was called supper, served indecently early, and no one dressed. Back East, good manners masked a fascinating game of subtleties. In the West, manners and etiquette surrendered to bluntness and convenience. What passed for society in Texas didn’t bear thinking about.
What surprised her was how little things had changed during the five years she had been gone. The pervading stench of the cattle was the same, and the brush thickets appeared as dense and thorny. Aside from weathering, the ranch house hadn’t changed at all. The only one of Joe’s wives to leave no mark on the ranch house was Lola. And thank heaven for that.
She couldn’t recall the woman’s name without shuddering. What on earth had Joe been thinking when he married Lola? He had condemned his daughters for unconventional behavior, then he’d brought home a woman so far beyond the pale that unconventional didn’t begin to describe her. A woman who would wear grey and reveal cleavage at her husband’s funeral. Another shudder twisted her lips.
That Lola could end by owning the ranch, the cattle, Joe’s property investments, even Alex’s mother’s silver tea set, made her despair. She couldn’t stand the thought.
What was she going to do about the cattle drive? No, don’t think about it yet.
She had already dismissed Mrs. O’ Shane and everyone but her cook. Her carriage was gone and the matching bays she’d been so proud of. She had discreetly sold all her jewelry except the black pearls and her wedding ring. If Luther Moreland had not included the fare for her journey, she would have had to borrow money to afford the long trip home.
It wasn’t fair that her inheritance was in doubt. It wasn’t fair that Payton had died and she had lost her leg. She gripped the arms of her wheelchair and fought a scream of outrage that burned in her throat. That she could feel like screaming shocked her, she who had never worn her emotions for all to see. Sometimes it felt as if she had lost more than her leg in the accident. She had also lost control, lost her famed composure, lost her spirit. These losses frightened her despite knowing that she deserved whatever punishment she suffered.
“Are you warm enough?”
Raising her head abruptly, she watched Les step into the light falling across the porch steps. “The house seemed stuffy tonight,” she said. “I wanted a breath of air.”
“Usually, it isn’t so cold this time of year.” Les sat in one of the porch chairs. “I don’t know why Pa liked these chairs. I’ve yet to find one that’s comfortable.”
It hadn’t been enough for Joe to surround himself with cattle on the range. He had to bring them to the house as well, in the form of furniture fashioned out of horns. The ugly chairs and tables made Alex long for her tastefully appointed home in Boston. But unless she won her share of her father’s estate, her home would be the next item to be sold. It was the only thing left.