"I'm not so stupid or so proud that I'd turn down a helping hand. Thank you, Wally. You, too, Dave."
She had family.
"Aunt Louise! You're crying."
"No I ain't, honey." She swiped a hand across her eyes and watched Wally and Dave take hold of Max by the ankles and under his arms and carry him outside. "We better see to your ma." Gilly was sitting sprawled on the floor, propped against the bottom of the sink cabinet. She clutched a whiskey glass against her chest and she was staring at Louise with awe and amazement.
Louise laughed. Shaking her head, she threw out her hands in a helpless gesture. "That crazy bastard.
'Scuse me, Sunshine. Jumping a fence in a blizzard! What in the hell was he thinking of? I swear, sometimes I suspect God didn't give men but half a brain. Would any of us do a damned fool thing like that?"
Livvy smiled and Gilly giggled, and then they were all laughing, great gusts of side-holding laughter that left them breathless and wiping tears from their eyes and cheeks. None of them could have explained why they laughed until they cried except they all felt better afterward.
Later, when Louise and Gilly pulled a sled laden with food down to the bunkhouse, a frozen wind drove snow and ice particles into their hair and faces. But Louise didn't feel the cold. She was warmed by the memory of Wally saying she had a family now. She wasn't alone anymore.
*
The new schedule was far from ideal. Dawn had already broken by the time Dave Weaver arrived to help with the morning feed. And since the days were short, it was dark before Wally arrived, and then he had to change out of his banker's togs and into work duds.
Max drove the sled and in the evenings he held a torch so Louise and Wally could see to work. While he stood watching, frustrated and angry, he relived the decision to jump the stone fence. Actually it hadn't been a conscious choice. He hadn't thought about the jump at all. Now his family was paying for his carelessness. And no one paid a heavier price than Louise.
When she wasn't pitching hay or feeding all the mouths on the ranch, she was shoveling a path to the barn and henhouse, chopping firewood, and milking Missy. She helped Max get dressed in the morning and undressed in the evening. She stropped his razor and shaved his face as if she'd served an apprenticeship in a barbershop. As if that weren't enough, she dragged half-frozen cows into the barn and rubbed them dry, gave them warm water to drink, and bullied them into a healthier state. Max marveled that she didn't keel over in exhaustion. He felt like she was working herself half to death on his behalf.
"What else can we do? We can't go back and change what happened," Louise pointed out. "So stop stewing around. You might as well enjoy your time off."
He slapped his book shut and shifted on the pillow to glare at her. Lamplight softened her wind-chapped cheeks and gleamed in the braid that lay across the shoulder of the cursed nightgown. But even in the mellow flattering light, deep circles were evident beneath her lashes and fatigue dulled her eyes.
"That's ridiculous. I can't enjoy anything when you're working harder than most men." Watching her chop wood or shovel a path, watching her work until her legs shook and she could hardly stand ate him up inside.
"It's not so bad," she insisted, setting aside her songbook. "We're managing. I don't mind the extra work."
"Well, I mind."
When she came up to the house after feeding the beeves and cracking ice off the stock ponds, her arms were trembling and twitched so badly that she had to steady her coffee cup with both hands to keep the coffee from spilling. Worst of all, two nights ago the temperature had fallen to fifteen degrees below zero.
Tears of frustration and determination had frozen on her cheeks before they reached her chin. He'd seen the little beads of ice in the torchlight, and he'd gone crazy inside.
"I'll make this up to you," he promised grimly. "I swear it, Louise."
"Well, there is something you could do for me. I'd sure like to have a baby," she said in a soft voice, looking down at her hands. "But with you all busted up …"
"Louise Downe McCord!" He sat up, and a slow grin replaced his frown. "Damned if you aren't turning into the temptress that half of Fort Houser thinks you are."
A sparkling glance chased the fatigue from her eyes. "I'm afraid it's finally happened. I've turned into a wanton woman."
"Absolutely debauched."
"Without shame. Too bad your arm's in a sling and you can't take advantage of my fallen state."
"My arm's busted, darlin', but everything else still works."
She had a wonderful laugh, husky and unselfconscious. "Do tell," she said when she'd caught her breath.
"There are ways to manage this where my arm wouldn't be in jeopardy."
Curiosity flickered in her hazel eyes. "If you want to elaborate on that statement, I'm listening."
"The man doesn't always have to be on top."
