It was a stupid argument that should never have escalated into a fistfight. What did Max care if Wally ended with a few more beeves than he did? He didn't even know if that was the case because they hadn't yet taken a final count. Also, Dave Weaver was recording the preliminary tally and dividing the herd into fourths, not Wally.
He'd made an offhand comment about Wally ending up with more calves, and Wally had reacted as if Max had accused him of stealing. By the time Max explained that he'd simply made an observation, Wally was beyond reason and fighting mad. In Max's opinion, Wally had been spoiling for a fight ever since he'd returned from Denver .
"That's a damned lie," Wally objected, spitting the words and glaring at Max over Livvy's head. "But if I were mad, I'd say I have reason. You leave here for months, then walk in and expect to take over like you've only been gone five minutes. You don't know what it was like to watch the streams and creeks dry up this summer. You don't know how it felt to ride out and find the dead beeves by following circling buzzards. If you'd been here like you should have—"
"That's enough, both of you. Sit down, Max. You, too, Wally."
They were in the kitchen where Livvy had cleaned and doctored split lips, a couple of black eyes, and various scrapes, scratches, and bruises. Gilly had cast them a despairing look before heading to the corrals to find Dave, and Louise had given Max a long, unreadable stare before she followed Gilly. As for Philadelphia , Max guessed she was upstairs. He'd seen the curtains twitch at the window of Gilly's old bedroom, otherwise he hadn't glimpsed hide nor hair of her since the day she'd arrived.
"The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves," Livvy snapped. When they were boys, they had called the look she gave them now her fire-and-brimstone look. It began with her fists on her hips and her eyes narrowed to slits, and occasionally it had ended with a switching. "Fighting like two mad dogs, and doing it in front of your hands."
"Hell, they enjoyed it," Wally said sourly, staring at his outstretched legs.
Max agreed, remembering the cheering and hollering. "I imagine they also enjoyed watching your wife wade in and stop the carnage," Livvy stated coldly.
Max frowned down at his bruised knuckles. He'd managed to pull his punch a second before he would have laid Louise out on the ground. Jumping into the middle of a fistfight was a damned foolhardy thing for her to do, and he still could hardly believe that's what she'd done. But she had walked between them without a hint of fear or hesitation, and she'd smacked them both with the heels of her hands, knocking them backward. Curling her lip, she'd said with disgust, "You're acting like you ain't in long pants yet!
Now get your butts up to the house and apologize to your ma for shaming her in front of the hands."
"Aren't you the focus of enough gossip and talk without adding to it?" Turning her back to them, Livvy walked to the window and glared outside. "Every person who hears this tale will believe the two of you were fighting over Philadelphia . And that's the story the boys will tell in the saloons tonight."
"It was about cattle," Max insisted firmly. Wally nodded.
"You two haven't fought each other since you were in your early teens, and now you go at it over a few calves?" Turning from the window, Livvy leaned against the sideboard and folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I hope blacking each other's eyes and bruising each other's ribs got it out of your systems.
Because I don't want to see this happen again, do you hear me?"
The air went out of Max's chest, and he covered his eyes with a hand. No one would believe that he and Wally had fought over a couple of calves. Of course it was more than that.
"This can go one of two ways," Livvy said. "We can accept that things got turned around and didn't work out the way we planned. We can put the past behind us and make this situation work for everyone.
Or," she stared at them, "the two of you can destroy our family. Is that what you want? To live within shouting distance of each other and fill the space with animosity? Do you want to tear your sister in two pieces? Never mind what it will do to me if you two can't accept the decisions you made. If you want to throw away a lifetime of caring about each other because of a woman, I can't stop you. But think about it and be sure that's what you really want."
She looked like she wanted to switch them, but they were grown men so she walked outside instead, slamming the door behind her.
"Hell," Max said after a minute, touching his fingers to his cracked lower lip. "Where'd you learn to throw a punch like that?"
"From you." Leaning back in the chair, Wally gingerly placed a hand against his ribs. "Damn. I'm not going to be able to take a deep breath for a week."
They sat in silence taking inventory of minor injuries.
"I guess this had to happen," Max said in a low voice. He hated it that Wally had married Philadelphia , hated that Wally was falling in love with her, and hated it that Wally would make her a good and devoted husband. Hated to think that Philadelphia might return Wally's love someday. He hated it that he couldn't place his hand on her stomach and feel his child kicking inside. Hated it that he would never know his son or daughter the way a father should. For a few violent moments he had needed to punish Wally for all of his own mistakes.
"I've been wanting to knock you into next Sunday, waiting for a chance to do it," Wally admitted, considering the hole in his pants above his knee.
Max nodded. Wally hated it that he'd saved the family honor at the cost of choosing his own bride and his own future. He hated it that Philadelphia had loved Max and Max had been there first. He had to hate it that his wife was carrying his brother's child.
"I'm through," Max said firmly. "As far as I'm concerned, it's finished."
"Same here."
"Have we talked about this enough, or is there anything more you want to say?"
"We've covered it," Wally said. "We know where we stand and what we're going to do about it."
They stood, gazed hard into each other's eyes, then shook hands, holding the grip longer than was necessary.
It occurred to Max that if he repeated this conversation to Louise, she would blink and claim they hadn't talked at all. But she would be wrong. They had said it all with their fists, and Livvy had added the postscript. Now the air was clear, and they could go on. They slapped each other on the back and returned to the corral to wrap up the branding and ear notching.
