Page 11 of Silver Lining
"I thought you'd be ready by now," he remarked impatiently.
"Well, pardon me." She slid him a glance, trying to determine if he was looking over her belongings, figuring they were now his. On the other hand, it occurred to her that Max McCord might not think her paltry possessions worth claiming.
His hat was comfortably worn, but there were no holes and the brim was smooth. His denims weren't patched or thin in spots, nor were his jacket or waistcoat. His boots looked practically new. And his horse. Low Down had never owned a ride as fine as the mustang Max sat atop.
"What's her name?" she asked, admiring the shine of sunlight on the mare's fiery coat.
"Marva Lee. Are you ready to go?"
"You can see I still have to strap down my saddlebags." And tie on her bedroll. The tent she would leave behind; maybe someone could use it. If events progressed the way they were supposed to, she'd be sharing Max's tent.
When she finished loading, she checked the site to see that she hadn't forgotten anything, then pushed back her hat and gazed down the slope at her diggings. A lot of hope had run through that sluice.
Tilting her head, she studied the sugary early snow frosting the high peaks, listened to the tumble and splash of the creek. Finally she dropped her gaze to the men pretending to work along the banks, pretending not to watch her and Max prepare to leave. Some of them she liked, some she didn't. But they'd always treated her squarely.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. "Good-bye all you gold grubbers! Just remember, I've seen you naked and none of you got do-diddle to brag about!" Laughter ran down the banks, and she grinned. "Strike it rich, boys!"
A chorus of good-luck wishes rolled down the creek banks and once again Low Down felt her throat getting tight and her eyes shiny. Damn it anyway. One era of her life was ending, and a new uncertain phase was beginning. She didn't know how she felt about any of it.
"Are you sure that mule can keep up?" Max asked from behind her.
"Rebecca's old, but she's like me. Sturdy, capable, and mean when riled." Low Down swung into the saddle. "Are you going to say good-bye to the boys?"
"I said my good-byes last night."
Drank them was more likely, Low Down thought, examining his bleary eyes and the paleness beneath his sun-darkened face. Men could do that. Sit and drink together without passing a sentence, then get up and go in the belief they had said all that needed to be said. Women required the words. But Max knew that, she suspected, pressing her hand against the pocket where she kept her copy of his letter.
Suddenly and for no reason at all she felt a surge of anger. "Well? What's the hold up? You know where we re going, so you'll have to lead off. I sure don't know where we're going. Nobody asked me about it.
All I know is we're headed west, not south. I never heard of any place called Fort Houser , and I don't want to go there, but I have to because I'm married now, like it or damned not." She leaned a forearm on the saddle horn and returned the stare he was burning down on her. "So?"
"One thing," he said after a minute. "Did you bring the wedding ring?"
"I've got it." She wasn't going to reveal where she kept her valuables. Her long johns, shirt, vest, and jacket were bulky enough that he couldn't see the pouches tied beneath her clothing. He wouldn't even suspect.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd wear the ring from now on."
He phrased the request politely enough, but Low Down knew a command when she heard one, and she thought about that during the rest of the day as she and Rebecca followed him down rough-and-rugged terrain.
Since she had informed him that she would not obey, and she meant it, her instinct was to fling the wedding ring down a ravine so she could honestly announce that she no longer had the ring and thus couldn't wear it. But impulse was not her guiding principal. Proverbs were. And the proverb that applied here was probably: They that are bound must obey. Marriage came under: Act in haste, repent at leisure.
God knew she was bound, and she was repenting.
When they stopped for the night, early enough that they still had light to set up camp, she thrust out her chin and asked why he wanted her to wear the ring since neither of them considered their marriage anything close to the genuine article.
"The marriage is real all right," he said in a resigned voice after he'd tethered Rebecca and Marva Lee to a picket line and then returned to the fire Low Down had started.
"Maybe I don't see it that way." Making coffee was the first thing she did, even before she laid out her bedroll or thought about food. This time the coffee wouldn't be much good since the gift pot was practically new and you needed a seasoned pot for truly decent coffee. She poured hers into the speckled blue cup and left Max to get his own. No sense starting a bad habit by waiting on his butt like she was a real wife.
He rolled up a log and sat across the fire from her. "My family is going to expect that you'll be wearing a wedding ring."
Low Down's hand jerked and boiling hot coffee slopped unnoticed on her denims. "You have a family?"
She gaped at him. "And we're going to see them?"
"My family owns a ranch outside Fort Houser ." For a long moment he gazed into his coffee cup, then swallowed half the liquid. "My mother split the ranch into quarters last year after my father died. My brother, Wally, lives in the main house with my mother. My sister and her family have a place about a mile south. My quarter is north."
It hadn't entered her mind that he would have family or that she would get to meet them. Or have to meet them, as the case might be. This was a truism about husbands that she'd overlooked because she hadn't thought about it at all. You married their families, too.
