“I’m not saying that,” she said, beginning to despair. “But I do need to eat. When I miss dinner, I don’t do as well out there. I’m practically dizzy by the time we bring the steers onto the bedding ground. Surely, you can understand—”
“Oh, I understand all right,” he said in a low snarl. “I understand that I sold my store to come on a goddamned cattle drive to support a selfish woman who only thinks of herself. I understand that I’m putting myself through hell for nothing.” He waved a hand toward his wagon. “I was going to give you a tin of canned tomatoes as a treat, Les, a little gift. What a fool I am. Why did I ever think someone named Roark would care about a mere shopkeeper?”
The mention of the tomatoes made her mouth water, and she swallowed, wishing she had them now because she wouldn’t get dinner. Alex would have everything packed away before she got Ward calmed down and reassured.
It went exactly as she predicted. She was still trying to soothe him when Freddy shouted her name. When she glanced toward camp, the fire was out, the coffeepot packed away, the drovers already gone. The only people still in camp were Alex, holding the reins to her mules; Freddy, waiting with Les’s horse; and Dal, watching her with a thunderous expression.
“I have to go,” she said, feeling a rush of panic. She murmured, “sorry,” as she passed Dal, then swung up on her horse without meeting Freddy’s glare.
“Les?” Alex shouted at her. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come here a minute.”
Cowed by Dal’s disapproval, she wanted to ride out immediately. But a lifetime of habit made her respond to Alex’s imperious command. Trotting up beside the seat of the chuck wagon, she gazed at Alex with pleading eyes. “Please, no lectures.”
Alex’s cool gaze focused on her jaw. “If you let him browbeat you now, he always will.” She tossed Les a small bundle, then braced her leg against the seat fender and lifted the reins.
“No one gets special consideration on this drive,” Dal said sharply, speaking to Alex. “If Les doesn’t eat when everyone else does, she doesn’t eat. Don’t do this again.” He nodded at the bundle Les was hastily tucking inside her vest.
Alex froze him with a withering glance. Les would have given the earth to be able to look as haughty and cold as Alex could when she wanted to.
“That is my sister,” Alex snapped. “If I choose the extra work of preparing a special packet to save her from starvation”—she flicked a look of disgust at Les—“that is my affair and not yours.” She slapped the reins across the back of the mules and the chuck wagon shot forward toward the open range.
Tears of surprise, gratitude, and admiration glistened in Les’s eyes. She wished she could stand up to people the way her sisters did. Her gaze followed the chuck wagon streaking across the prairie. She couldn’t remember ever doing anything to help Alex.
Knots rose along Dal’s jawline. “If you continue missing meals, we’ll have to talk about it. That’s not acceptable, so work it out.” He pulled his horse around and cantered toward the herd.
“Bravo,” Freddy said softly. She, too, was watching the chuck wagon race away from them. “Sometimes I admire the same qualities in Alex that also make me want to throttle her.” She nodded at Les’s vest. “The rest of us had the last of the son of bitch stew.” A light shudder twitched her shoulders. “I hope she sent something better for you. Not that you deserve it.”
They rode out together, trotting into the sun and dust toward the same stubborn beeves who always lagged behind the herd. “You don’t understand,” Les called. “Ward drives his own wagon, and he has nothing in common with Luther and that gambler. He needs company.”
“Fine. Give him company after you eat,” Freddy said, swinging in behind the herd.
“That would only be a few short minutes.” Once she saw that the situation with the laggards was normal, she eased the packet out of her vest and untied the cloth. Alex had made her a thick cheese sandwich, fragrant with butter. And she’d been given a hard boiled egg, an item so precious that she could hardly believe her good fortune.
Freddy frowned at the egg. “Son of a gun. Maybe I’ll miss a couple of meals, too.”
“Ward can’t seem to understand that I need time to eat.” But she had to fix this problem or Dal would. Somehow, she had to make Ward see reason.
Freddy rode beside her, their legs brushing. “In the theater we handled this kind of thing by facing the person who was being obstinate and saying, ‘Ward, piss on you’.”
Les’s head snapped up. She could have chastised Freddy for being vulgar. She could have pointed out that she’d never find the courage to say something like that. Instead, she imagined Ward’s expression if she did, and burst into startled, delighted laughter.
Freddy smiled. “Hurry up and eat, then let’s chase those stupid beeves back to the herd. I’m in a mood to show those old mossbacks who’s in charge back here.”