Page 26 of Silver Lining
She slid a sidelong glance at his profile then pushed at the fingers of her gloves, trying to make them fit better. Oddly, the motion made her uncomfortable, made her think about last night. Not talking about last night was easy. Not thinking about it was the hard part. It seemed that nearly everything recalled some detail. The firm manner in which he held the reins between his hands. The breathless way her corset squeezed her ribs. The smell of shaving soap that occasionally wafted in her direction.
She gave her head a shake. "Well. That's why I collect songbooks. I like to read the stories and then think about them."
"If you like stories, why don't you read books?"
"Hoo boy, now that's a good one!" She slapped her thigh and laughed. "First, books cost too much money. Second, well, what would you think if you saw someone like me reading a book? You'd think I was putting on airs, sure enough. No, the songbooks are good enough. I like them." And she had a new one from the boys at Piney Creek that she hadn't read yet. It was a treat to look forward to. And maybe if things went well between her and Gilly, Gilly would be willing to trade some of her books.
Max rubbed his eyes, then dropped his hand back to the reins.
"Pretty day today," Low Down remarked after another mile had rolled beneath the wheels.
"I suppose so."
To the west, the Rocky Mountains drew a jagged purplish line across the horizon. Some of the peaks were snow-capped, but here on the slope of the plains, autumn had just begun to hint at the brilliant display to come. The grasses had faded, and Low Down spotted a few pale leaves among the tall cottonwoods clumped across a rolling landscape. They passed men raking hay out of stubbled fields, and soon the ranchers would move their cattle down to winter pastures.
"Every turn of the wheels makes me more nervous," she admitted after another mile had passed in silence. She was wearing herself out with the anxiety of wondering if Max's family would accept her during the brief time they would be married. Of course, it didn't matter, and she didn't care.
"Stop worrying," he advised.
She couldn't help it. What if his family hated her on sight? After all, she was the one who had wrecked the wedding plans.
"Oh damn." Flinging out a hand, she gripped Max's tense arm. "I'm sorry. I forgot all about tonight.
You're going to see Philadelphia and her father." She stared at him, feeling the steely tautness of the muscles beneath her fingertips. He must be dreading tonight as much as—more than—she dreaded meeting his family. "Max… I wish—"
"Low … Louise. I don't want to discuss this."
Louise? Suddenly she remembered him waking her to ask her name. And then, her shock when he had pulled her into his arms. The back of her neck grew hot, and she turned her head away, busying herself by slapping at her skirts, checking her hat, pushing at the fingers of her gloves.
"Does your family like Philadelphia ?" she inquired in a low voice, furious with herself that she'd ask such a dumb thing. "I guess they do," she said when Max didn't answer.
"Do we have to talk? I have a lot on my mind right now. I need to do some thinking."
"About what you'll say tonight to Miss Houser and her father. I understand. Silence is golden." Twisting her fingers in front of her mouth, she made a motion like she was locking her lips and throwing away the key.
For the next hour neither of them spoke. Low Down gazed at the fields and trees and streams and distant mountains. She fussed with her skirt and hat and gloves and bag and laced her shoes again. She swayed on the wagon seat, occasionally bumping against Max's shoulder and thigh. The trip seemed interminable.
"How much farther?" She spotted a town ahead and hoped it was Fort Houser , named for Philadelphia 's grandfather, who had founded the town. She suspected Max believed she hadn't paid attention when he told her about Philadelphia 's high-faluting family, but she had.
"That's Fort Houser ," Max confirmed. "We'll bypass the town and go directly to the ranch."
She supposed that made sense. He wouldn't want word flying back to Philadelphia that he'd returned home accompanied by a woman. Philadelphia should hear the bad news from him.
"We'll be home in less than an hour."
Home. To a real family. Lordy, she hadn't been this nervous in years.
"I don't care if they like me or not." She placed a hand on her stomach and strained to see into the distance, looking for a ranch house among the stands of cottonwood and willows. "It won't be for long, anyway. For all we know, I'm pregnant right now."
"That would be good," Max said, speaking between his teeth. He, too, sat straighter and stiffer on the wagon seat. It occurred to her that he probably wished he didn't have to bring her home to his family.
The more she thought about his being ashamed of her, the angrier she became. She hadn't asked for these complications. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't live up to the McCord family standards.
Turning on the wooden seat, she narrowed her eyes on his expensive hat, scanned the rich gloss of his leather jacket. She'd bet the earth that none of the McCords had ever gone to sleep hungry, or insulated their boots with old newspaper.
"I'm sorry that I'm not some fancy-dancy butterfly wearing a velvet dress to meet your snooty family. But I have my good points! And just remember, it wasn't me who insisted on marriage, and I didn't choose you!" Flouncing back into place, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the road.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
