Freddy lifted a hand and ticked down her fingers. “Here’s a few of the things you’ve been wrong about just since you returned to Texas. You were wrong when you insisted that you didn’t need to know how to shoot a weapon. You were wrong about Les loving Ward. You were wrong not to interfere when we heard Ward slap Les.”
“You didn’t interfere either!” she said, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise on her cheeks.
“We’re not talking about me. You were wrong every time you said, ‘I can’t do this.’ You were wrong when you thought you were going to die in the stampede. You were wrong about that, too,” Freddy said, nodding at the crutch leaning against the worktable.
She put down her knife and wiped her hands on her apron. “So I’ve been mistaken about a few things,” she snapped. “What’s your point?”
“First, let’s talk about the past. You were wrong to go chasing after Payton, and wrong to pretend it was a marriage made in heaven. You were wrong to insist on going to that party and wrong to urge the carriage driver to drive faster in the rain.”
“How dare you!” she said furiously, her voice low and shaking. Heat burned on her cheeks and her hands trembled badly.
Freddy leaned forward with narrowed eyes. “You’re wrong about a lot of things, Alex. So what the hell makes you think it’s the right decision to give up John, a good future, and, instead, sit down in that clumsy, confining wheelchair and live the rest of your life as a miserably unhappy recluse?”
“Shut up!” Shaking so badly that she feared she would fall, she reached for the crutch and slipped it under her arm. “You… you…”
Freddy waved an angry hand toward the drovers sitting on the grass eating their noon meal. “Every man in this outfit worked on that wooden leg, Alex. And every one of them thinks you’re wrong not to wear it. But you think you’re right. Now, why is that? Do you prefer to feel crippled and helpless? Does it feel good to be dependent and imagine that strangers feel sorry for you? Because that’s the only reason I can think of to explain why you’re being so stupid.”
Alex gasped. The blood drained from her face and pain tightened her chest. “Why are you saying these hurtful things?” she whispered. She had believed that she and Freddy were friends now, that they cared about each other.
“You think you killed Payton. You’re wrong about that. But you are hurting a good man who loves you. Is that what you stand for, Alex? Is it right to sacrifice yourself for a dead man, but cause a living man pain? John turned himself inside out for you. He faced his past and put it behind him, because he loves you. But you won’t do that for him, will you? Is guilt easier to live with than love? Is it easier to make a prison out of that damned chair than to strap on your leg and take two steps toward the man you told me you love?” Her lip curled. “I looked up to you, Alex. I thought you had courage. I never thought you’d throw away your life just to prove that you’re right, and that’s really what this is all about.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re saying!” she shouted, fury blazing in her eyes.
“Wrong again,” Freddy said quietly. She reached for Alex’s hand, then dropped her arm when Alex jerked back. “You aren’t going to let John walk away because of some deranged need to punish yourself for Payton’s death. That isn’t the reason. If you retreat to that chair, it will be because you can’t admit that you made the wrong decision when you decided to spend the rest of your life atoning for another wrong decision.”
“Get out of here and leave me alone!” She was shaking violently, so angry that she was stuttering.
“In a few days we’re going to ride into Abilene and John is going to get on the train and you’ll never see him again.” Freddy grabbed her hand, and this time she wouldn’t let Alex shake her loose. “You can go with him. Or you can spend the rest of your life regretting two wrong decisions. Payton’s death and rejecting John. Think about it, Alex, and think fast. Time is running out.”
Tears of pain, outrage, and fury blurred Freddy’s form as she walked toward the remuda. Alex wanted to scream at her, throw something, say something, but she was so deeply upset and furious that she couldn’t speak or move. When she regained a semblance of control, she dropped into her wheelchair and shoved savagely at the wheels, lurching out onto the grassy prairie. Facing away from camp, she dropped her head and buried her face in her hands, gulping deep breaths and shaking. Finally, she made herself think about what Freddy had said.
And, oh God, Freddy was right.
She had been wrong about so many, many things, had made so many bad decisions.