The Best Man (Blue Heron, #1)

All three sisters looked at him, and said in unison, “I hate you.”


The next morning Se?ora Calvos knocked on her door and reminded her that she was fixing breakfast in the backyard. Alex sat up and pushed a wave of blond hair out of her eyes, wanting to cuss like Freddy.

And, of course, it was Freddy who was first to criticize the meal that she and Les had been rousted out of bed to sample. “What is this stuff?”

“It’s sowbelly—bacon to you—fried beef, and eggs since we have them,” Alex snapped. The ground was wet from an overnight rain, and she’d had a devil of a time getting the fire started. Grease splattered her dress, and she’d burned the beef. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never become accustomed to handling raw meat; she detested the feel of it. As for the eggs, not one had come out of the skillet with an unbroken yoke.

Les turned a lump in her hand. “I guess this is a biscuit?”

“I usually do better.” Lifting her head she stared at Frisco, seething with resentment and frustration. “What do you have to say?”

“Nothing.” He chewed. And chewed. “Except, it appears that you probably aren’t going to be too popular with the outfit.” Raising his fork, he poked experimentally at his eggs.

Freddy set her plate aside. “I’m cold, tired, and I don’t like sitting on the ground to eat.” Her stare dared Frisco to object. “I’m going back inside.”

“You and Les head down to the stables and saddle up,” Frisco said, prodding one of the biscuits with a knife. Alex noticed and ground her teeth together.

“When do we get a day of rest?” Les whispered, dropping her head. “I ache all over, and I’m so tired I can’t think.” Now that the sun was up, Alex noticed a new bruise on Les’s jaw. She decided uneasily that the bruise must be a result of working the longhorn. Her mind shuddered away from suspecting anything else.

“You don’t get a day of rest.” Frisco scanned a slow frown around the circle. “If you’re tired, get to sleep earlier.”

“Freddy, come back here,” Alex shouted. “You don’t walk off and leave your plate on the ground. You put it in the… in the…” She looked helplessly at Frisco.

“The wreck pan,” he said to Freddy. “Shake off any leftovers, then put your plate in the pan of water up there on the wagon’s worktable.”

Thin-lipped, Freddy did as she was instructed, then looked down at Alex. “That’s the worst meal I’ve ever refused to eat. We’re all going to starve long before we reach Abilene.”

Stung, Alex stabbed her fork into the damp ground. “It won’t matter because we won’t have any steers left anyway. Not if you run them all off like you did yesterday!” She’d heard about Freddy’s idiotic performance.

Alex watched her sister stamp back toward the house, realizing that she had resented Freddy all of her life, and Les, too. While she washed up the tin dishes, feeling sorry for herself, she thought about growing up with stepmothers who hadn’t liked her and seldom noticed her. In their opinions, she existed solely to look after their babies.

“What are you thinking about?” Frisco asked, reminding her that he was standing nearby, watching her try to balance on her crutch and wash dishes at the same time.

“Reviewing old grudges,” she said, surprising herself by the honesty of the answer.

“It’d be better if you’d review your biscuit recipe instead,” he suggested.

She looked up, prepared to take his head off, but saw the twinkle in his eye. After a brief hesitation, she laughed. “I’m never going to be a good cook. I don’t have the knack for it.”

“Maybe you’ll get better with experience,” he said, walking down the side of the wagon, checking that she’d retrieved all the utensils and hung them properly. “I know you can’t harness the mules to the wagon—”

“No, I can’t,” she said in a weary voice. There were so many things that she couldn’t do.

“So Grady will take on that chore. That’s him, bringing up the team now,” he added, looking toward the side of the house. “Have you driven before?”

“I used to drive a buckboard into town on occasion.” Grady waved at her as he came around the house, leading four mules that didn’t look to her untrained eye as if they had been gentled to harness. “That was a long time ago,” she said, pressing her hands together and watching the animals. “And it was only two horses.”

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