Silver Lining (39 page)

"Mrs. Weaver sent you a pot of chocolate," her father said, entering without knocking. He placed a tray on her bedside table and the aroma of toast and hot chocolate wafted toward her.

"Would you pour me a cup? Please, Daddy?" she asked in a little-girl voice.

Like Max, her father appeared to have spent a sleepless and difficult night. He wore the same clothing he'd worn yesterday, and he hadn't shaved, leading her to guess that he hadn't gone home last night but had stayed here at the McCord ranch.

He gave her a cup of chocolate, then sat heavily on the chair Gilly had vacated. "I don't know where to begin."

"I wanted to confide in you, but I just couldn't." That's what would hurt him most. She hadn't come to him with her problems.

"It was Luis Delacroix," he stated flatly. "That son of a bitch was a guest in my home. I've known his father for twenty years."

"He overpowered me, Daddy." Tears wet her eyes. She saw Luis in her memory, imagined the scene so vividly it could have been true. "I resisted, but—"

"Really?" A chill hardened his tired gaze. "You didn't cry out? Told no one afterward? I'm willing to accept that Delacroix seduced you, but I won't accept that he did so against your will. You'd already been with one man; you knew what was happening. I remember watching you flirt with him, Philadelphia . I remember thinking you were too innocent to understand what you were doing." He made a sound of disgust deep in his throat.

"Please don't blame me." Tears spilled out of her swollen eye. "It was only once. An accident. Afterward I felt so ashamed, so frightened. I didn't know what to do."

"You've hurt so many people." He rubbed the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw, then straightened against the back of the chair. "I've apologized to Max and his wife. Naturally I'll end the restrictions against any hands they hire. When I return to the bank, I'll mark Max's mortgage paid and return his note.

I've told him if he needs a loan to buy more cattle, he can name his own terms. Maybe that will make up in some small way for … " He lifted a hand and let it fall back to his lap.

"You apologized? To Max and that creature?" She couldn't believe it. "He may not have been the one who … but he jilted me!"

"I wouldn't blame Wally if he decides to divorce you."

She gasped and stared. Divorce would be her decision, not Wally's.

"If he divorces you, I'll buy you a small house in Denver ."

"I don't want to go to Denver ! I want to stay in Fort Houser . This is my home!"

He shook his head. "You're my only child, Philadelphia , and I don't intend our estrangement to be permanent. But I don't want to see or speak to you for a long while. Perhaps we'll correspond from time to time." He rose to his feet. "If I'm not present to solve your problems, maybe you'll have a better chance to grow and grow up."

Stunned and speechless, she watched with her mouth opened in disbelief as he left the room. An estrangement? He was banishing her? But why? Truly, she didn't understand.

Before she could reach any conclusions, Wally entered the room and came to her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

Finally, someone thought to ask about her. "I'm sore and weak." Gingerly, she touched her black eye.

"I'll come right to the point." Wally pulled the chair closer and reached for her hand. "Your father has made a very generous offer. He's proposed that I open a new bank in Santa Fe."

"Oh please, Wally. I don't want to hear about business."

"Just listen. Your father will pay moving expenses. He'll build us a suitable house near the town square.

I'll receive a handsome salary plus stock bonuses. Eventually, I'll own the bank."

Us? Could he or her father really believe she would move a thousand miles away from her home? With Wally?

"Or," he said, meeting her gaze, "since I entered into this marriage based on a false premise, I can divorce you. Your father made it clear that the offer in Santa Fe is firm whether or not you and I remain married."

She would speak to her father aboutthat.

"Everyone seems to believe that I should divorce you. But I've thought about it, and that isn't what I want. I think you and I can make a fresh start. I think we could learn to love each other. But you may not agree; you may wish to regain your freedom. Therefore, I leave the choice to you. If you prefer a divorce, I won't object if you go to Wyoming and begin proceedings. You can claim that I've deserted you. Or you can come to Santa Fe with me, and we'll start over."

Of course it was her choice. And she had already decided what she and Max would do.

"If you choose to come to Santa Fe , then we need to set down some ground rules. We will never discuss this period of our lives again. I don't want to know who the man was or why you became pregnant by him. That's behind us and forgotten."

He looked down at his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "We will not have separate bedrooms. We will always dine together. We will visit your father and my family twice a year, and they will always be welcome in my home. That includes my brother and his wife, whom you will treat with respect."

"Do you have other demands?" she asked coldly.

"Very likely I will. If you can't abide by a few simple rules or if you can't take no for an answer, then go to Wyoming ." He shrugged and gazed at her. "You're selfish and self-centered, Philadelphia . Capable of cunning and deceit if it serves your purpose. I don't know why I think I could love you or why I find you challenging. But I do."

"No one speaks to me like that!"

Standing, he gazed down at her. "I don't expect you to make up your mind immediately. I won't be leaving for Santa Fe until the end of the month. You have until then to decide what you want to do."

"I can tell you right now!"

"I don't want to hear it now. I want you to think about everything, and be sure. Seems to me that you need to choose between making our marriage a real one, or facing the scandal of a divorce."

The word "scandal" gave her pause. He was right, of course. A divorce would finish her if she wasn't ruined already. Clearly, she could not remain in Fort Houser . But that didn't matter. She and Max would start over in some place new and fresh.

No one came to sit with her after Wally left. If she listened hard, she could hear faint sounds of conversation drifting from the kitchen, but the distance was too great to make out words. They were probably talking about her. Criticizing her. Making it sound like everything that had happened was her fault.

A genuine tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another. There hadn't been a choice. Anyone would have done what she did.

Max would understand. He just needed a little time.

«^

I
t seemed to Louise that a weight had lifted from Max's shoulders and left him so light of foot that a spring appeared in his step. After a week of moody silence, he became a different person. For the last two weeks, he had whistled in the mornings on his way to the barn. He seemed easier in his mind and didn't lose his temper with the new hands even when Louise thought he should have.

When she asked why he hadn't jumped Merdock's butt the morning Merdock slept late, Max had just shrugged and explained he was so grateful to have the boys back that he didn't care if Merdock was late getting to work. Then he'd laughed and predicted his attitude would change, but right now he thanked heaven that the bunkhouse was full. And he thanked God that Louise no longer had to labor like a hired hand.

Tears had sprung into her eyes, and she had rushed from the room because she understood what he was saying. He didn't need her anymore. And now that Philadelphia 's pregnancy had been resolved, old doors had opened. New options were possible.

It was time for Louise to leave.

Though it made her feel foolish to think about it now, for a while she had hoped they might forget about their agreement. Just set it aside. They got along well; they had fallen into a comfortable routine that seemed to suit them both. To her amusement and amazement, she had turned into a real wife and secretly liked caring for a house and a husband.

And the nights. How she loved the nights when they read together in bed, shoulders touching, sharing bits from his book and her songbook. That's where they discussed the important things, the events or emotions they didn't share with others. And that's where he reached for her and slid her new nightgown up to her hips and kissed her until she was dizzy with loving him and wanting him.

But reality had slapped her hard the day of Philadelphia 's labor. She had gazed into Max's eyes and saw a reflection of the woman he loved, and it wasn't her. She had listened to Philadelphia 's threat to take Max away, and she'd felt the bitter sting of truth.

Oh Lord, she was crying again. And Gilly would be here any minute. In fact, she thought she'd seen Gilly ride in, but Gilly wouldn't have gone directly to the barn. Livvy must have come to speak to Max.

Today she and Gilly were going into town to choose birthday gifts for Sunshine. They had decided Sunshine should have at least one or two store-bought gifts. Perhaps an embroidery hoop, maybe new Sunday shoes.

"Louise?"

"Come in." Grabbing a dish towel, she wiped her eyes and shouted toward the front door. "I'm in the kitchen."

Smelling of fresh, cold air and the light verbena scent she favored, Gilly bustled down the hallway and straight to the coffeepot hissing and bubbling on the back of the stove. "Mama's watching Sunshine so you and I are footloose and fancy-free today." She smiled. "Your wagon's out front, but I don't think the horses would mind if we have a cup of hot coffee before we leave."

"Max said he'd hitch the wagon. I didn't know he'd already done it."

"Louise McCord! Have you been crying?"

"No."

Gilly peered into her face. "You are crying!" A sudden smile replaced her frown. "And if my suspicions are correct, I think I know why. Stand up and let me take a good look at you."

Pulling Louise to her feet, Gilly gazed hard at her waist and then studied her wet, anxious face. A radiant smile lit her expression. "My heavens! Mama is going to be so happy, and so am I!" Throwing out her arms, she clasped Louise in a tight embrace. "When are you due? Does Max know yet?"

"Oh Lord, it shows then?" She sat at the table and pressed the dishcloth to her eyes. If Gilly knew, then she couldn't put off telling Max. And then … "Absolutely," Gilly said with a laugh. "Tears are a dead giveaway, especially for a strong woman like you."

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I sure don't feel strong. Everything makes me cry!" Fresh tears drowned her eyes when she thought about never seeing Gilly again. Or Sunshine. Or Livvy. Max, she couldn't bear to think about at all. Every time she imagined telling him that she would be leaving as they had agreed, her heart hurt so badly that she backed away and told herself: One more day.

"I didn't want to tell Max—"

"While you were feeding those cattle," Gilly guessed. She sighed. "That's how it is in a good marriage.

You want to help your man. And he wants to protect his woman. If Max knew you were pregnant, he would have let those beeves starve before he'd let you work that hard."

A good marriage. Oh Lord, here came the tears again. "I can't talk about Max. It makes me cry." She blew her nose in her hanky and blotted her eyes with the dish towel. "I'll get my hat and coat, then we'll go down to the barn and tell him we're leaving. Gilly, promise we won't talk about Philadelphia today."

Gilly's eyebrows lifted. "You aren't worrying about her, are you? Oh Louise. If Max had married Philadelphia , it would have been a disaster. And I'd wager the earth that Max has known that for a long time."

Louise wished she could believe Gilly's airy dismissal, but she didn't. Where there was smoke, there was fire. And there was plenty of smoke between Max and Philadelphia . Moreover, she had heard Mr.

Houser tell Wally that he would understand if Wally divorced Philadelphia . But she had thought about it and had concluded that Philadelphia would be the one to seek a divorce. Philadelphia would travel to Wyoming as soon as she could. And Max would go with her.

Because now the only thing standing between Max and Philadelphia was Louise. If she weren't in the way, they could be together as they had always wanted to be.

"If you're feeling even a tiny bit jealous of Philadelphia , well, you're just being silly," Gilly insisted as they left the house and walked toward the barn.

Louise wanted so much to believe what Gilly said. Her heart leapt on any small scrap of hope, and she tried hard not to see what was right under her nose.

But when they had almost reached the barn door, when they were close enough to see inside, they both stopped abruptly. Just beyond the door, Max held Philadelphia tightly against his body. He lowered his head and kissed her.

A hot knife sliced through Louise's body. The pain of seeing them holding each other was worse than anything she had ever experienced, worse than anything she could have imagined. Her fingers dug into Gilly's arm, and she made a strangled sound.

Then she turned and blindly ran back to the house.

*

The men in the barn looked toward the door, then faded away like snowdrifts beneath a warm wind.

Puzzled, Max straightened in the stall he was mucking out and glanced around to see what had caused the boys to leave so hastily.

Philadelphia stood in a bar of sunshine just inside the door. She'd tossed back a short cape to reveal a dark riding jacket that curved over her breasts and nipped her waist. She wore a small feather-trimmed hat atop a mass of golden curls.

"Max?" She peered into the barn, but she didn't step out of the rectangle of light.

Slowly, he put down his shovel, dropped his gloves in the straw, and walked toward her. With the sunlight in her curls, shimmering and glowing around her, she looked like an ethereal creature sketched by imagination, too perfect to be real.

Halting a few feet from her, he thrust a hand into his pocket and grasped the green marble. So much had happened since the first time he had gripped this marble. He wasn't the same man he'd been that day on the mountain-side. Nor did the marble represent the same things to him that it had then.