The Best Man (Blue Heron, #1)

“I want to keep Les on the drive because she’s earned her share of Joe’s money.”


Anger twisted her lips. “Are you hinting that I didn’t? You don’t have any idea what it was like being married to Joe Roark! Stuck out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but cows for excitement.” She waved a hand. “It’s the longest ten months I ever spent! No dancing, no cards, one glass of whiskey a night. And the criticism… a lady does this, a lady does that,” she repeated in a singsong voice of disgust. “Believe me, I earned every cent that’s coming to me!”

He nodded at her cape and gown. “Looks to me like you were paid pretty well.”

“Dal, I need this money. There aren’t going to be any more rich husbands. I’m running out of time.” Turning her face, she looked into the coal stove. “I want to get out of the country, to see Europe in style. I don’t ever again want to be forced to depend on a man.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t there something missing from those grand plans? Like Caldwell for instance?”

She laughed. “Jack is useful. At present.”

Her sly smile told him however much Caldwell might think he was using Lola to reach the jackpot, Lola was a step ahead. She’d dangle marriage to entice him to help her, but Dal was willing to bet that Caldwell would never see a penny of Joe’s money.

“It’s all moot, Lola, because you aren’t going to win,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Those holier-than-thou troublemaking daughters are still young enough to find a man; they don’t need Joe’s money. I do!”

“Joe was their father. They have more of a claim to his fortune than you do.”

“None of those sanctimonious little bitches ever did a lick of real work. Never had to worry about supporting themselves or getting along in the world! Never went without. They were spoiled, coddled, and pampered all their worthless lives. They don’t deserve to win!”

“They’re working now,” he said softly. “Nobody’s pampering them. They’re getting their hands dirty. I’ll tell you something else about Joe Roark’s daughters, Lola. They aren’t cheats. They aren’t swindlers or liars, and they don’t use people for their own benefit. Win or lose, they’ll do it honestly,” he said standing and looking down at her. Reaching in his slicker pocket, he withdrew a paper and pencil and dropped them on the tea try. “Caldwell’s responsible for what happened to Les. And the way I figure it, he’s acting on your orders to make trouble wherever he can, which makes you responsible. So you write Luther a note and tell him that you don’t object to Les taking as long as she needs to get well. Do it, or you’ll regret it, Lola.”

“Why, what a suspicious mind you have.” Lola tented her fingers under her chin. “But your request does present an interesting dilemma. If my poor injured stepdaughter stays on the drive, that means you won’t replace her with a more experienced hand, and that’s good for me. On the other hand, if Les has to withdraw, I’ll have the pleasure of knowing the little bitch won’t get one red cent of Joe’s money. If something happens and the other two have to withdraw, then I’d win by default.” A smile curved her lips. “None of those girls have what it takes to go the distance.” Her eyes hardened. “I ain’t letting her off the hook, honey. Les is off the drive, and good riddance. One down, two to go.”

Dal let himself see her for what she was, and feel the hatred that had festered since the end of the war. “Two can play this game, Lola. I’m warning you… tell Luther that Les stays on the drive, or so help me God, I’ll destroy you. You won’t get a penny.”

“Oh my, I’m shaking in my boots,” she said with a laugh. Standing, she moved to the door, thrusting out her bosom and one hip. “Despite everything, I like you, Dal. You’re one good-looking cowboy. How is it that you and me never went to bed?”

“Just lucky I guess.” He rolled his hat up on his head and walked past her.

Downstairs in the saloon, he bought a whiskey and pushed the glass around on the counter in front of him. Getting tangled up with Lola had started him on the road that ended inside a bottle. He’d let himself get suckered, made a fool of, set up as a target for murder and revenge. He’d betrayed his principles and ultimately his country.

And Lola had walked away unscathed with a lot of other people’s money in her pocket.

He gazed at the amber shimmer topping the whiskey glass, and saw how the cattle drive would unfold. The mired wagon was only the beginning. This hard-luck drive was going to be plagued all the way to the yards at Abilene. And when it ended, Lola would walk away unscathed, with Joe Roark’s fortune in her pocket.

Only this time, he wouldn’t be the only human wreckage she left behind her.

When he felt sweat appear on his brow, saw his knuckles whiten around the glass, he pushed the whiskey away and glared at the bartender polishing glasses behind the bar. “Does Austin have a telegraph office?”

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