What more did Max McCord have to lose before the reverberations ended from that day on the mountainside? He'd lost his bride, his child, a future in banking. Before it was over, he might lose his brother and now his ranch. She'd be damned before she let that happen. It ended here, now. Max was not going to lose anything more.
"Like hell," Louise said, leaning forward. Her eyes glittered. "You got me. And I'm worth three hands any day. You and me, we can get those beeves through the winter."
He stared at her. "You don't know what you're saying. Getting a herd through the winter is hard work.
The cattle don'tstop eating when a blizzard blows. We'll have to keep the stock ponds from freezing over. I can't ask this of you."
"You ain't asking. I'm volunteering. We're not giving up without a fight."
CHAPTER 14
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"I'm sorry, but I never interfere in Papa's business." How many miserable hours had she now spent staring out of her bedroom window? She hated living here, loathed it. The daily monotony and idleness were driving her mad.
"I'll ride into town tomorrow and speak to your father myself." Bending at the hearth, Wally banked the logs in her bedroom fireplace. "Trying to ruin Max is small-minded and serves no purpose. This has to stop."
Small-minded? She certainly hoped he displayed more tact when he spoke to her father.
"Did Max ask you to intercede on his behalf?" Ironically, if Max lost his ranch, he'd have to move into town as she had wanted him to do in the first place.
"No. Would you like to come to town with me?" Wally asked. He looked quite handsome today, dressed and groomed for Sunday dinner. If she had her way—and eventually she would—he'd never wear flannel and everyday denims again. "You said something about wanting to stop by Mrs. Dame's."
The at-home dresses and wrappers Mrs. Dame was sewing for her were shapeless sacklike things that she could not imagine wearing. On the other hand, her regular clothing was beginning to fit snugly at the waist. Every day she checked her stomach in the mirror, detesting the roundness she saw reflected.
Knowing it would get worse, knowing she would bloat up like a frog and lose her figure was a dismal fact she refused to contemplate.
"The garments Mrs. Dame is making don't require much fitting." Outside, a cold wind plucked at browning leaves then chased the leaves toward the barn. Philadelphia wished herself a thousand miles from this window.
"I know how bored you've been. I could drop you at Mrs. Dame's, then maybe you'd like to do some shopping at the Ladies' Emporium or visit friends. There's no hurry to get back."
She wasn't about to put herself through another trip to the emporium. Last week she had wheedled Wally into taking her to town and she'd received one nasty shock after another. Women she had known all of her life had cut her in the emporium. And when she called on ladies she considered friends, their doors had been closed to her. Even the Grayson sisters had instructed their housekeeper to say they were out, as if Philadelphia didn't know they received every Wednesday afternoon.
The injustice of it made her shrivel inside. Apparently the scandalmongers believed she had been seeing both the McCord brothers, playing them one against the other. This is what came of her father and Mrs.
McCord deciding on the story to be put about and not involving her in the process. They hadn't spared her from scandal; they had, in fact, made her a social persona non grata and had given her one more cross to bear. The same humiliation would have resulted if the full truth were known, but in that case at least a few of her friends and acquaintances would surely have pitied her and understood she was a victim, not a villainess.
"No," she decided, hating it that she was truly a prisoner here. "I'll stay at the ranch. I cannot endure it that I—I!—have been smeared in this affair." Angry tears welled in her eyes and she stamped her foot.
"It isn't fair!"
"No, it isn't." Wally came to her and clasped her hands in his, stroking her fingers. "It might take your mind off things and make time pass a little quicker if you gave Ma a hand in the kitchen…"
Cats would bark before she turned herself into a household drudge. "Did Livvy ask you to say that? Has she complained about me?"
"Not at all," Wally hastily assured her. "But Ma's doing all the cooking, cleaning, washing, and ironing."
"Are you implying that because your mother won't tolerate servants in her house, I should become a housemaid? I'm a guest here!" Offended, she tried to withdraw her hands, but he held on.
"I'm only suggesting that keeping busy might relieve the boredom for you, and Ma would undoubtedly appreciate the help." A certain timidity crept into his voice when he wanted her to do something that he sensed she didn't wish to do. The signal gave her a moment to prepare her response.
"Oh Wally. Is that the next humiliation, the next punishment? That I should sink to the level of a servant?"
Tears spilled beautifully over her lashes, and she accepted the handkerchief he pushed into her hand.
Blotting her cheeks, she prevented teardrops from spotting the bosom of her Sunday taffeta. "If you insist, I'll debase myself but… how much must I bear?"
"Of course I'm not insisting. I was merely offering a suggestion, that's all." Gently, he guided her into his arms and caressed her back. "My poor brave darling."
