The heat of anger lingered in the room after her sisters had gone. Fuming, Freddy walked to the window, letting the chilly air leaking around the panes cool her face.
They hadn’t liked each other even as children. They had been competitive and combative, arguing over which of their mothers Joe had loved most or best, fighting over who got to sit next to him at supper. As they grew into adolescence, they had struggled to assert their individuality and distance themselves from each other. Alex tried to reject the responsibilities foisted on her by her stepmothers. Freddy had loathed being the recipient of Alex’s hand-me-down gowns, and she felt forgotten, the attention focused on the oldest or the youngest, seldom on her. Les wanted to be taken seriously instead of having her opinions rejected as trivial because she was the youngest. They had always seen each other as rivals blocking access to Pa, or as obstacles standing in the way of getting what they wanted.
Was it any wonder that they hadn’t acted in unison against Joe’s iron fist of control? They had each rebelled alone. Alex had eloped with a man after hearing two of the lectures he gave during his tour of the South. Freddy had joined an acting troupe that came through Klees. Les had agreed to marry a man with all of Pa’s worst traits and none of his good qualities.
Well, why should she care who Les married or for what reason? She didn’t.
She had her own troubles. Les would have Ward Hamm to take care of her, and Alex had a home and modest income. But Freddy had nothing. Without Pa’s financial support, there was a very real and horrifying possibility that she would have to beg for charity simply to live.
Pressing her forehead against the windowpane, she gazed out at the range and watched the King’s Walk punchers herding strays back toward the barn and corrals. It was a scene she had witnessed all of her life, but hadn’t paid any attention. Now she did, and her heart sank.
She knew nothing about longhorns except that they stank and had vicious-looking horns that terrified her. It was inconceivable that she could take an active role in a cattle drive.
But unless she rode into Abilene, Kansas, alongside two thousand bad-tempered cattle, she would be penniless. With no place to live, no place to go. Panic choked her.
When her breathing steadied, she let herself think about Jack Caldwell. Even before Pa died, Jack and Lola were driving out together, scandalizing the county, not that either of them cared. But Freddy had cared. Being rejected in favor of her hated stepmother had shocked her.
At least no one knew. In retrospect, she thanked heaven that her relationship with Jack had been discreet. She’d felt ashamed of herself for refusing to appear in public with a gambler, and she had intended to change that. Before she did, he’d gotten impatient and started seeing Lola.
Well to hell with him. She didn’t need Jack or any other man. All she had ever needed was herself.
Chapter 2
“Mr. Moreland, ladies, I’ve listened to this damned fool proposal and there ain’t no way I’d boss this drive. Women got no place on a cattle drive, ‘specially a woman in a wheelchair.”
“Mr. Connity, we don’t have a choice. We can’t wink at the rules as you put it and simply go along for the ride,” Freddy repeated. She nodded at Luther Moreland, the Roark family attorney. “Mr. Moreland will accompany the drive to see that all conditions are met, and our stepmother is entitled to send along a representative to observe on her behalf. People will be watching. My sisters and I must be active participants, or we lose our inheritance.”
Mr. Connity hauled to his feet and stared at each of them in a way that made Freddy aware of their pale, sun-protected skin and smooth, callus-free hands. “Some damned fool might accept you three as full hands, but it ain’t going to be me. Afternoon, ladies. Mr. Moreland.” He nodded, then walked out of the parlor.
They had interviewed four trail bosses, and all four had turned them down the instant they learned that the conditions of the will could not be circumvented.
“They take one look at Alex’s wheelchair and that’s the end of it,” Les said in a discouraged voice. “Would you care for more coffee, Luther?”
“No thank you,” Luther said, rifling through the papers on his lap.
“You’re wrong if you think you and Freddy would have no difficulty engaging a trail boss if I withdrew!” Alex said hotly.
Freddy smiled. Alex so seldom lost control that it was a pleasure to watch when it happened.
“Oh for heaven’s sakes, I was merely stating an observation,” Les said, giving Luther a put-upon look. “No matter what I say, one of them jumps down my throat.”
Luther Moreland touched a dark bow tie and cleared his throat. “Ladies, Mr. Connity was our last acceptable candidate.”
“Surely there’s someone else.” When Luther didn’t answer, Freddy swallowed hard. “Luther, are you saying the cattle drive won’t happen? That it’s over right now, and we don’t have a chance to win our inheritance?”