CHAPTER FIVE
The door to her father’s study opened and Alex stormed out, his face taut. Maggie didn’t think he even saw her. He marched out the front door and closed it firmly behind him, rattling the windows.
She ran and opened it, then flew across the porch and down the steps. “Alex, wait!”
He turned toward her, his brown eyes hard with anger. “What is it?”
“You’ve ruined everything!”
“Oh?” He laughed and turned toward his horse.
Maggie stepped closer. “I wasn’t here when the men brought Leo in, but as soon as I found out what happened, I tried to get Papa to help him and Sela. But Papa was all out of sorts. Not with Leo. He was angry because the men were making trouble, but after—”
“We’re making trouble? That’s insane.”
“His words, not mine. Forgive me. I was going to talk to him tonight. I think I could have gotten him to sympathize—but not now.”
Alex shook his head, and Maggie reached to touch his arm.
“Yesterday I thought we could get things back to normal here, but then today we had a setback.” She hadn’t wanted to tell him about her father’s latest breach of conduct, but Alex and the other men would find out anyway when they visited Leo.
“What happened?”
She looked up into his brown eyes. Maybe he would listen, and together they could figure out what to do. “I’d been helping Dolores care for Leo and Sela’s children, but I—I went away for a couple of hours. I shouldn’t have done that, but I did. And when I came back, Papa had sent Shep to take the boys to Sela in town.” She couldn’t keep her face from crumpling as tears flooded her eyes. “I really thought I could make him understand, and that after a while he would see your side of it. But I shouldn’t have gone away this morning.”
“So how does that make it all my fault?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I still hoped that if I just had another day or two to work on Papa, I might be able to get him to relent. But now you’ve defied him outright. He’ll never forgive you.”
Alex glared at her. “I’m not the one who needs forgiveness, Maggie. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“Please—” Her voice shook, and she hated that. He wanted to play the injured party? She would not cry in front of him.
“I thought you were Sela’s friend,” he said. “What are Leo and Sela going to do now?”
That hurt a lot. She’d never known Alex to be so stubborn. “I don’t know. I’ve done what I could to help them.”
“I’m sure your father thinks he has, too.” Alex jumped into the saddle and rode away.
Maggie stood watching him until his horse disappeared into the darkness. He never rode in from roundup this late. He should be getting ready to sleep, with the other cowboys. It would be nearly midnight when he got back to the camp. But would it matter, if they truly intended to strike? They might be up all night laying plans.
The breeze stirred, and she felt tears wet on her cheeks. She wiped them away and went back inside. She was exhausted from her long day, but she couldn’t leave things as they were.
The study door was still shut. She pulled in a deep breath and marched over to it. Without knocking, she turned the knob and went in.
“Papa, I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”
He was sitting behind the desk, slumped in his chair, but he straightened when she spoke. His face was gray, and he grimaced as he moved.
“Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand, Margaret.”
Maggie cringed at that. He’d never called her Margaret unless he was displeased with her behavior. It had been years since that had happened. She stepped closer to the desk.
“I want to understand, Papa. Help me to understand, because the way you’re acting baffles me. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Times have changed.”
“Times aren’t the only things. You’ve changed. What is it? What happened while I was away to make you like this?”
He met her stare for several seconds and then faltered. “Oh, Maggie, I didn’t intend for it to be this way.”
She rounded the desk and knelt by his chair, taking his hands in her. “Papa, tell me. What is it?”
He let out a deep sigh, full of remorse. “Your mother’s treatment … sweetheart, it took a lot of money.”
He nodded. “All of that and the money I’d earmarked for new stock, and more besides. I still owe a lot.”
“But … you paid for my upkeep, too, while I was with her. I never heard that the bills were late.”
“I made sure they weren’t. Didn’t want you to worry. But the sanatorium … that bill got so big I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it.” Tears glistened in his eyes, and he turned his face away from her.
“Oh, Papa. Why didn’t you tell me, when I came home for the funeral? I didn’t need to go to San Francisco. I could just as well have stayed here with you. I’d have been happy.”
He was silent for a long time. At last he said, “Then you’d have known.”
She pulled herself up and put her arms around him. “I love you, Papa.”
He reached up and squeezed her arm. They didn’t move for a long moment. At last Maggie pulled away.
“So that’s it? That’s why you won’t listen to the men?”
“I can’t pay them more. I used to let them have their little herds. But every maverick a man puts his own brand on is money out of my wallet. I can’t afford that now.”
“It meant so much to them,” Maggie said. “Not just extra income, but the men took pride in their herds.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Now they want more money—money I don’t have.”
“Why don’t you just tell them?” Maggie asked.
“I can’t do that.”
“But Papa, you used to look out for the men. You kept the ranch nice, and you paid them enough for them to live on and tuck away a little for the future. Now they feel as if you don’t care about them.”
“I’ve been so tired,” her father said. “Since your mother died—no, before that. Ever since you went away with her, things have been hard. That was a bad year, and we haven’t recovered financially since then. The bills and all …”
Through the window, she could see the moon rising. She wished they could be outside, enjoying it together.
“Papa, let’s ride out to the roundup camp tomorrow.” Even as she said it, she knew it was impossible. Even if her father felt up to it, his rift with Alex had ruined every possibility of a successful outing.
“The men are striking.”
“Yes, it seems so.” She stood there watching his face, not knowing what to say. She had no solutions to offer. “Can’t we just tell the men that for now things are tight and you can’t raise their pay, but maybe after the drive, if we get a good price for the cattle—”
“They won’t listen.”
“They will if you talk to them man to man. Assure them that you hear their concerns. Maybe even tell them you’ll give them a little bonus after the drive to Fort Worth.”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you, Maggie? I can’t afford a bonus. I can’t even afford to pay them.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe Alex turned on me. I was counting on that boy to keep the men calm until the drive was over.”
“He was upset about Leo and Sela. Papa, what happened? I came home from Carlotta’s today, and Dolores told me Shep took the children to Sela. I thought Dolores was going to keep them for her while she stayed in town with Leo.”
Her father scowled. “Dolores can’t do her work and watch three rowdy little boys. I told you that.”
“But Sela can’t have them with her at the doctor’s office.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Even to Maggie, he sounded cold.
“Where did you go this afternoon? You missed supper.” Maggie sucked in a deep breath. “I went to town to help Sela.”
His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t expect you to go against me.”
“Papa, she couldn’t afford lodging, or someone to watch the children. If you wouldn’t let her stay here in her own home, I felt I had no choice.”
Her father stood and held up both hands. “Let’s not say any more about this. I’ve put everything I could scrape up into the herd, and I’m counting on the money we get when we sell it to finish paying off the bills. Maybe then I can think about painting the bunkhouse and giving the men a bonus.”
“Will that take care of everything, Papa?” Maggie looked deep into his eyes. “Because if you think there are enough cattle to sell, and if prices are high this year, well then, that should take care of it, right?”
“We won’t know until the end of the drive.”
She nodded, her mind racing. Now was not the time to tell him she’d spent what remained of her personal funds to hire a woman to watch the Eagleton children for Sela. “All right. What if you ask the men to continue at the wages you’re giving them now, and if the drive goes well, you’ll give them extra when it’s over?”
“I can’t promise them that. What if there’s barely enough to pay the hospital bills?”
“Then, we tell them at the sanatorium that we’re paying what we can, and we’ll pay the rest next year.”
“No. No, I can’t carry any bills over until next year.”
“Why not? If you can’t pay it all now, you just can’t. That’s it. Won’t they take what you can give them and wait for the rest? I mean, if you send as much as you can, that will be a sign that you intend to pay it all eventually.”
Maggie winced at his angry tone.
Papa put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” He walked out of the room.
Maggie followed, her steps dragging. She felt adrift. Her father had been the one solid thing in her life—Papa and the ranch.
No one had lit the lamps in the parlor, and the room was dark. Light still spilled from the kitchen doorway, and Maggie walked slowly toward it. Dolores was covering a large pottery bowl with a linen towel. She looked up and saw Maggie in the doorway.
“Buenos noches, chica. You look so sad. What is wrong?” Maggie stepped into the kitchen and sat down on a stool near Dolores’s worktable. “It’s Papa. I don’t understand him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He doesn’t act like himself. I talked to him just now, and he’s worried about money. Did you know about that, Dolores? He’s afraid he won’t be able to pay the bills from the sanatorium. I had no idea Mama’s treatment cost so much.”
Dolores gave her a sad smile. “They had a new treatment, but it was expensive. He wanted to try it, to give your mama every chance. I know he is worried. But I’m glad he talked to you.”
Hot tears burned in Maggie’s eyes. “If I’d had any idea, I’d never have let him pay for my trip to San Francisco. But when I was home last fall—when we had the funeral—he didn’t say anything about it. He wanted me to go. In fact, I wanted to stay here with him on the ranch, but he insisted. He said it would be good for me.”
“Oh, my sweet Maggie.” Dolores came to her and gave her a hug. “I am so sorry. After your mama’s death, he saw how sad you were, and that made his grief worse. You were a brave girl to stay with her all those months while she got weaker and weaker. I think your papa wanted you to go to a new place and have happy times with your cousin.”
“Yes, I expect you’re right. He wanted me to forget all the bad times. But I’m glad I could be with Mama then, Dolores. And I’ll never regret being with her through those last months of her illness.”
“Of course not. But you had some other things to think about in San Francisco, no?”
“Yes. Distractions. That’s what he wanted for me, wasn’t it?”
“I think so.”
Maggie nodded. “But Papa didn’t have any distractions. He had to stay here and worry about the money I was spending.”
“Oh, do not say that. He wanted you to go, and to have pretty clothes and see the sights. Do not be sorry that you went.”
“I am sorry. This has made Papa into a different person. He’s so … so angry. If I’d stayed here, we would have spent less, and maybe I could have helped him stay happy.” She shook her head. “Not happy after Mama died. That’s not what I mean. But … I just don’t understand this.” The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Dolores handed her a handkerchief.
“There, my dear one. You mustn’t cry. Your papa, he doesn’t feel well. You cannot blame him for being different than he was when you went away.”
“He’s been sick?” Maggie stared at her. “I did wonder. He’s lost weight, hasn’t he? And he doesn’t look healthy. I thought it was because he hasn’t been out riding the range with the men.”
“Maybe it is partly from that, but I think it is more the opposite.”
“What—?”
Dolores sighed. “He does not go out riding because he is ill. He is very tired and ill.”
“Now you’re scaring me. Has he seen a doctor?”
“Oh, yes. The doctor comes every week.”
Alarmed, Maggie crumpled the handkerchief. “What is it? What’s wrong with him?”
Dolores shook her head. “He does not tell me. Shep either. But I think it is bad, and I am glad you are home now.”
Maggie stared at her for a moment then wiped away her fresh tears. “This is not fair. I came home three days ago, and I had no idea any of this was going on. I mean … when I was here last fall, we were all preoccupied with Mama’s death and the service.”
“That is natural.”
“Yes, but was Papa sick then? I thought he seemed thinner and sadder, but I figured that was because of Mama dying. I felt sort of that way myself.”
“I think he probably wasn’t feeling well then. Last summer he seemed not to be so … active.” Dolores arched her eyebrows in question. “And the money trouble, I think it started before that.”
Maggie nodded. “I understand. He told me he’d sunk everything into the herd, hoping he can pay off the bills for Mama’s treatment after the cattle are sold. But his health … He’s only forty-seven. He’s not exactly old. And if he’s got the doctor coming every week—”
“That is only for the last month or so. And I have heard him say to Dr. Vargas that he should not drive out here so often, but the doctor wants to come. He gives him medicine, but your papa does not have me fix it for him. He does it himself. Powders, I think.”
Maggie stood and shoved the handkerchief into her pocket. “Well, I’m going to find out exactly what’s going on.”
She marched out of the living room and crossed the big parlor. The door to her father’s office was open. She glanced inside, but he wasn’t there.
She went down the hallway and paused outside his bedroom. She felt horribly alone. Never before had she been on the opposite side of anything from Papa. In some ways, it felt worse than when she knew Mama was dying.
Lord, help me. Show me what to say.
She raised her hand and knocked.
“What?” he asked gruffly.
“It’s Maggie. May I come in?”
After a moment she heard the bed creak. “Come ahead.” She opened the door. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking tousled.
“What is it?”
She stood before him, feeling guilty for no reason whatsoever. She hauled in a deep breath.
“Papa, I just found out that Dr. Vargas comes to see you often.”
“So?”
“So I want to know what’s going on. Dolores says you are ill, but she doesn’t know what the trouble is. Please tell me.”
“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
Tears threatened to overwhelm her again. Oh, please Lord! Instead, she grasped at the anger that warred with the sadness inside her. “It is my business. This is my home, and you are all the family I have left. If you’re going to be sick and I end up having to make decisions about the ranch, it will certainly be my business! You have no right to keep things from me. Now tell me!”
He started shaking his head when she was halfway through her tirade. By the time she’d finished, his face was dark red and he was struggling to rise.
“Don’t get up, Papa. Just stay calm and tell me.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he sank back onto the bed. He was silent for a moment, avoiding her gaze. At last he looked up at her.
“I hoped we’d never have to have this conversation.”
“Well, we do, Papa.” The tears came, but she didn’t care anymore. “Please talk to me! What is it?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “Cancer.”
Maggie clenched her teeth.
“There’s no cure,” he said.
She sobbed. “Papa!”
He opened his arms, and she sat down beside him and buried her face against his shoulder. She cried for several minutes, unable to stop. At last she sat up and pulled out the crumpled handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, Papa.”
Tears streaked his face, too. “Oh, Maggie, I hate this. I wanted to leave you a working ranch in good shape, not a pile of debts. And now the boys are threatening to walk out on us. I can’t stand it. If it weren’t for you …”
“What?” she asked, a new terror striking her.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She hugged him again. “Papa, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry about the ranch. It’s you I need.”
“But you won’t have me for long, whether we like it or not. It’s what made me tell you to come home, even though I knew you’d have a better time in San Francisco than you would here.”
“No, Papa. I’m glad I came home. I wouldn’t give up this time with you for anything. We’ll work out something with the men.”
He shook his head. “I don’t see how. We can’t give them what they want. And Alex! I never thought he’d do this to me.”
“No! You mustn’t.”
She pulled away and studied his ashen face. “But why not, Papa? If the men knew you’re sick—”
“I couldn’t face them. Please, honey. Let me have this little bit of dignity.”
She swallowed hard, her mind racing. “All right, Papa.” She kissed his cheek, unable to say more.