Part 18 (1/2)
”I mean to see she's in the saddle before the sun goes down. You can't think I'm going to do her work as well as mine.”
”I don't care who does her work. Fern stays here until I say she's ready to leave.”
”Look, lady, I don't know who you are”
”My name is Rose Randolph. My husband is George Randolph.”
”but you got nothing to say about what I do with my daughter. Now get out of my way before I have to lay hands on you.”
Fern slipped out of the nightgown and reached for her s.h.i.+rt. He couldn't touch Rose. Fern would never be able to face Madison if he did.
”If you so much as touch me, my husband will kill you,” Rose stated. She said it quite naturally, with no more fanfare than if she were announcing they were in for another hot day. ”That is if Hen doesn't do it first.”
That statement, not unnaturally, produced a silence. Fern's fingers froze on her s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons. Visions of George in jail for the murder of her father rose before her eyes like demons escaping from h.e.l.l. It would be a nightmare past all imagining.
”No man would kill me for something like that,” Sproull sputtered.
”I can't speak for other men,” Rose answered, ”but I can speak for the Randolphs.”
”I don't believe you.”
Fern's fingers flew over the last two b.u.t.tons, and she reached for her pants. Her father never believed anybody. He was firmly convinced he was the only authority in the world.
”Mr. Sproull, you earn your living selling to the drovers, don't you?”
”Mostly.”
”I have only to say a word to my husband, and no one from Texas will ever buy from you again.”
Silence.
Fern had never thought of the influence George Randolph might wield with the other Texans, but she had no doubt he would be more than willing to ruin anybody for the sake of his family.
She couldn't be the cause of her father's ruin. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen, and she certainly hadn't meant for him to threaten Rose, but she should have foreseen it.
She searched for her socks, but Rose's next words stayed her hand.
”I understand you have cattle, the herd you're so anxious to have Fern attend,” Rose said. ”If you don't get back to them right away, something might frighten them so badly they wouldn't stop running until they were several hundred miles from here. The Indians would probably get them before you could find them.”
Fern could almost hear her father making gulping noises. He might pretend the herd wasn't important, but she knew he liked the money she brought in.
”It's sometimes very difficult to keep a trail herd from overrunning fields, especially if those fields are filled with succulent green vegetables.”
”Are you threatening me?” Sproull asked. He still sounded rather fierce, but Fern could tell that much of the steam had gone out of his bl.u.s.ter. She sank down on the bed, her bare feet forgotten.
”I'm simply telling you what could happen if you continue to leave your farm unsupervised. We'll keep Fern here. That way you won't have to wait on her and do your work as well.”
”I ain't never waited on a woman in my life,” Sproull shouted, ”not even her mother.”
”It was probably very wise of Mrs. Sproull to die at her earliest convenience. It must have seemed preferable to a life spent as your wife. Now if you will excuse me, I have things I must do. Good day, Mr. Sproull.”
”Good day,” Mrs. Abbott repeated, closing the door in his face with considerable vehemence.
”I never thought Baker Sproull could be so unfeeling,” Mrs. Abbott said. ”He's downright cruel.”
”He's probably never had anyone to tell him when to stop. A good, strong-minded wife might have made a fairly decent man out of him.”
”I shouldn't want to try.”
”I imagine it's too late now.”
Fern felt the tension gradually leave her body until she collapsed on the bed. She wouldn't have guessed until now just how much she had dreaded her father's appearance. She had known she would have to go with him, had been prepared to get out of bed and leave immediately, but Rose had sent him away with a good deal to think about. Fern doubted he would come back. He loved money more than he loved her.
That hurt. She had thought she was used to his coldness. She never really looked for anything else. But Rose and Madison had shown her that people didn't have to be related to her to care.
Still more amazing, they had extended this circle of protection to her after she had done everything she could to alienate them. She didn't understand that. It wasn't as if they were missionaries bent on saving her soul.
Even more profoundly shocking, she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay with these strangers. It had nothing to do with her injury. For the first time in her life, somebody cared for her enough to be concerned about what was happening to her, about how she felt.
She was drawn to Madison because he saw something in her that no one else had seen, something that made him want to kiss her, want to invite her to Mrs. McCoy's party. It made him want to make her believe in her own attractiveness. It made him care that she still hurt. It made him care how others treated her. Enough to fight for her.
She wouldn't forget that. Not ever.
She undressed and slipped back into bed.
”You're very quiet,” Rose said to Fern. ”Do you still have a lot of pain?”
”No. I've really felt much better today. I probably ought to go home.”
”You can't leave until Madison gets back. He gave me the most explicit instructions on that score.”
Fern smiled, but almost immediately her expression turned serious. ”Why did you take me in? I've been nothing but trouble.”
Rose smiled comfortingly. ”Because you were hurt and needed attention. You refused to let a doctor examine you, remember.”
Fern nodded. ”But why did you keep me?”
”Because you needed someone to take care of you. Besides, we like you. As for your cows, they'll get along without you. I sometimes think cows are the only other creatures in G.o.d's creation to have eternal life.”
”You don't like cows?”
”Good Lord, no. How can anybody actually like a cow, especially a longhorn? George doesn't care much for them either, but it's the way we make our living.”
Fern could hardly believe her ears. She'd never heard a Texan say he disliked longhorns. From the way they defended the beasts, you'd have thought they loved them as much as their children.
Quick on the heels of that discovery came another. Fern hated cows. She had hated them for years without even suspecting. She had depended on them to give her independence. She had identified with them because it was necessary, but deep down she loathed the huge, stinking, stubborn, noisy, stupid beasts. She'd be perfectly happy if she never saw another one.
The discovery turned everything upside downagain. Her place in the community, her reason for getting up each day, had been tied to that herd. Now it was gone. None of the old equations worked anymore. The whole fabric of her life was unraveling.
And all because of Madison Randolph.