Dal flipped his cigar toward a fallen headstone, pushed his hands in his pockets, and glanced at the sisters again, hating it that his future depended on them.
On the other hand, the Roark cattle drive had just gotten a lot more interesting. Learning that Lola Fiddler was Roark’s widow gave him an added stake in helping the Roark sisters earn their inheritance. When he’d ridden into Klees, he’d needed this job. Now he wanted it too.
“There has to be a way that we can get our rightful inheritance without going on a cattle drive,” Freddy said again, scowling out the parlor window. In the distance she saw two King’s Walk hands riding after a half dozen longhorns. She could easier imagine herself strolling down Main Street in her shimmy and stockings than she could visualize herself chasing cattle.
“You were there when Luther Moreland read Father’s will,” Alex said from behind her “There’s nothing ambivalent about Father’s last wishes or about the list of instructions and conditions he drew up. Unless we do this, that woman gets everything.”
The heavy draperies framing the windowpanes were dusty and permeated with the odor of cigar smoke. For a moment the smoky smell was so strong that Freddy could almost believe Pa stood behind her, looking out at his land over her shoulder. Pressing her lips together, she turned away and walked to the fire flickering in the grate, extending her hands to the flames.
“Even if we agree, how can we possibly succeed?” she asked Alex and Les. “That’s what makes me so furious. Pa knew we couldn’t turn ourselves into cowhands. Lola’s going to get everything in the end.” She waved an angry hand indicating the ranch house, the barn and outbuildings, the land and the cattle. “Damn him. It isn’t fair!”
“Please.” Les raised a hand to her temple. “Pa’s two days in the grave. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything. And must you be so coarse? You know swearing offends me.”
“Well pardon me. I certainly wouldn’t want to offend your tender sensibilities.” She rolled her eyes, but the truth was she didn’t care what Les thought. Long ago she had decided since everyone in Klees, including her own family, thought she was an immoral woman, she might as well behave like one, “You can quit defending Pa, it won’t do you any good now.”
“Just shut up! All you ever did was embarrass Pa or turn your back on him. You wouldn’t even live here at the ranch. Oh no. You had to have a place in town.” Les stood and clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt. “You could at least have come out here for Sunday dinner!”
“And talk to that creature he married? Do you know what they say about her in town?”
“Do you know what they say about you in town?”
“Stop it,” Alex said in a tired voice. “They’ll hear you screaming down at the barn.”
Color flamed up from Freddy’s throat. “I didn’t like you telling us what to do when we were children, and I don’t like it now!”
During the two weeks that Alex had been home, the three of them had slipped backward into childhood habits. From her lofty position as the oldest, Alex judged, criticized, and issued orders. She had rearranged the funeral plans and had decided when Luther Moreland would read the will. It had been Alex who persuaded Lola to vacate the ranch and obtain a residence in town at least until the inheritance was decided. Alex who insisted that Freddy stay at the ranch until everything was settled. Freddy and Les had stepped aside and let her take the lead.
Freddy made a sound of disgust. Alex was still lording it over them, still taking charge. It didn’t matter that the decisions Alex had made were sound, it mattered that she had come home after a five-year absence and taken control as if she’d never been gone.
Alex folded her hands in her lap and studied Freddy’s hot face. “I would rather that you didn’t air personal grievances when we know the household staff is listening.”
“Why are you addressing these remarks to me? Was I talking to myself?” For as long as Freddy could remember, it had always been: Take care of the baby. Long after Les ceased to be a baby, that had still been the refrain. Take care of Les. Protect Les. She was sick of it.
“You start these things, Freddy,” Les said, her chin coming up. “You’re not happy unless everything is stirred up around you!”
“Do you suppose the two of you could stop bickering long enough to discuss the problem we’re facing?” Alex rolled to the tea table Se?ora Calvos had laid for them and poured herself another cup of tea from the silver service that had belonged to her mother.