Three days later, when Freddy heard Ward’s shout, she pulled back on the reins and peered through a haze of dust. Les’s horse was heading south toward Ward’s wagon, moving away from the herd. Les was semiconscious, mumbling, and the only thing holding her in the saddle was the waist harness that Ward had devised and made for her.
Riding after her, Freddy caught the reins and guided Les’s horse into a turn, leading the mare back toward the stragglers and the dust kicked up by the main herd. When she spotted a puddle left from last night’s brief rainstorm, she jumped off her horse, ran to the puddle and wet her bandanna. She mounted again and reached to give Les a shake.
“I… wha…” Les licked her lips. “I’m dying, Freddy. Please. Please let me lie down.”
Tears cut the dust on Freddy’s cheeks and she dashed at them with the back of her glove. “Here, Les. Wipe your face.” She pushed the wet bandanna into Les’s lap, watched Les stare down at it with a stupid expression. “I can’t get close enough to do it for you.”
She’d never been as happy to see anyone as when Dal rode out of the rolling dust. Cold anger glittered in his eyes when he looked at Les, swaying and bobbing in the saddle. “This is criminal,” he said, speaking between his teeth. He sent an icy stare toward Ward’s wagon following behind.
Freddy hit the saddletree with her fist. “I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate Ward Hamm. He’s going to kill her!”
Last night’s rain had cooled the air, but Les was burning with fever and didn’t seem to know where she was.
“Please, Dal. Isn’t there something you can do? Is there any way to persuade Lola to give Les another week off the line?” She didn’t know if another week would be enough, but it would be better than this. Anything would be better than watching this. “If Lola won’t agree, then there must be something we can do to force that greedy, murdering, son of bitch Ward to pull her out of this drive before it kills her!”
“Lola won’t budge,” Dal snapped, staring at Les. Her chin was on her chest, her eyes closed. Only the waist harness held her on the saddle. “I’ve talked to Hamm, threatened him; he won’t budge either.”
Freddy pulled off her hat and slapped it hard against her thigh. Anger and frustration made her chest hurt. “He doesn’t have the right to make this decision for her!”
“Luther says he does. Les and Ward have officially announced their intention to marry at the end of the drive. She has given her property, future, and life into Hamm’s hands. She has no other male guardian, no close male kin. As her future husband, Hamm is claiming ownership and the right to make decisions that will affect them both.”
“Ownership!” Freddy shouted in a strangled voice. The West was far more liberal than the East, but even here conventions prevailed when it was convenient. Releasing a scream, she galloped away from Dal and rode up fast and hard on Mouse and Brownie, the laziest of the stragglers. She ran them a quarter of a mile before she halted to catch her breath and wait for Dal and Les to catch up.
“You’re the boss. You could put her off the drive,” she said to Dal when he rode up, leading Les’s horse.
“Tell me what reason I can use that Hamm won’t challenge in court. Give me a valid justification, and I’ll put Les off this drive faster than you can quote a line from one of your plays.”
“She isn’t doing the work! Look at her. She’s only half-conscious!”
“Ward will say she was on her horse, in position, putting in the hours.” Stretching a hand, he gently pushed Les upright, then swore steadily.
Tears spilled over Freddy’s lashes. “She didn’t work the last two stampedes!”
“Hamm will say that was because I ordered her not to. He’d be right.”
Freddy’s leg brushed his. “Put her off the drive anyway, I beg you. Alex and I will sign anything Ward wants saying that we’ll give Les her share of the inheritance if we win. She doesn’t have to finish the drive, she can go somewhere, and rest, and get well. She’ll get her share anyway! Tell him that!”
Sunlight fell across Dal’s eyes when he turned his head, making them appear coolly translucent. “Alex already suggested that proposition to Luther, but it won’t work. You and Alex don’t get to decide how the inheritance is divided. Joe made that decision in his will, and the will says if any of you drop out for any reason, you forfeit your share of the inheritance.”
“There must be some way around—”
Dal’s sudden laugh made her look up. “If there was any way to tinker with the will and Joe’s conditions, you would have hired the first trail boss you interviewed. Believe me, if ever there was a watertight will, Joe’s will is it.”