The Best Man (Blue Heron, #1)

“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?”

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