CHAPTER6

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A rough spot on the wooden wagon seat snagged Low Down's skirt when she twisted around to peer back at the Belle Mark. She had arrived there yesterday as one person and departed today as another.

She looked different; she felt different, and maybe she was. Maybe she was pregnant. Her heart lifted at the possibility. On the other hand, he who lived on hope dined on scraps. It was better not to hope too much. Just wait and see.

When Max headed the team north and she could no longer make out the green-and-white-striped awning, she turned her attention to the items packed in the wagon bed.

"Mostly provisions and supplies for the ranch," Max explained. "And a few gifts for the family."

"What kind of gifts?" she inquired, anxiously smoothing her skirts before she checked on the hat pin that anchored her hat to her hair. A person had only one chance to create a good first impression, and she wanted Max's family to approve of her. On the other hand, why should they?

Max glanced back to make sure he wasn't driving too fast for Marva Lee and Rebecca who were tied to the tailgate.

"I bought Gilly's husband, Dave, new strings for his guitar and a hatband. My brother, Wally, gets a silver belt buckle and a book of house plans in case he decides someday to build on his quarter. The bolts of cloth are for Gilly and my mother."

"What kind of material did you choose?"

"Velvet."

Low Down whistled. "Son of a bitch. That must have cost a pretty penny!" When he turned his head to frown, she lifted her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm not swearing as much as I used to." Changing herself was not easy. Old habits died hard. "What else did you buy?"

"I bought Ma a new set of account books." Max kept his eyes on the twin ruts in front of the team.

Learning what gifts he'd chosen gave her a small glimpse of her new family. "What did you buy Gilly and her daughter?" she asked. She had been especially interested in Gilly and Sunshine since Max had told her about them.

"There's a doll for Sunshine, and a box of lace-edged handkerchiefs and a book of sheet music for Gilly."

"Sheet music?" She considered for several minutes, then finally decided to confide in him. "I collect songbooks myself."

Surprise lifted his eyebrows. "Then the piano wasn't as far-fetched a suggestion as it seemed at the time."

"I don't play the piano, I just collect songbooks."

"Why?"

"Because I enjoy the stories." She liked to surprise him, but suddenly she felt uneasy. His expression suggested that other people didn't do this. "Take that song about 'Grandfather's Clock,' for instance. It stopped ticking when the old man died." She gazed into his eyes, as blue as the powdery sky. Then, since she'd come this far, she plunged ahead. "Don't you think that's sad and touching?"

"I guess I never thought much about the words."

"Another example is 'Shoo, Fly, Don't Bother Me. ' That's a funny one. Anyway. The song stories are short, and most of the time they offer a lot to think about. I've thought of a dozen ways that old grandfather might have died and stopped the clock, Or, take 'Silver Threads Among the Gold.' I mulled over that song for days after I read the words. Pondering growing older and asking myself if I'd done all the things I wanted to do. That's when I first started thinking about a baby and getting to it if I was ever going to."

She stopped short. Neither of them had referred to last night, and she didn't think they should. There was a time to speak and a time to be silent, and she figured what happened behind a bedroom door demanded silence. Max had done his duty; that was the important thing. Now they would wait to discover if he needed to do it again.

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?"

She felt his stare like a scald on the side of her face. "It ain't my fault that I don't have a grandfather who founded a town. Or that I can't play the piano."

"Louise—"

"I am what I am, and damned if I'm going to apologize for it! I don't care what you or your family think of me." As always, her beloved proverbs came to her rescue. "Every tub must stand on its own bottom.

That's how I've always lived, standing on my own bottom." She was working herself into a respectable state of anger. "I don't need you or your judgmental family."

"You may not need a family," Max said in a resigned voice, "but there they are, waiting for you on the porch. Someone must have seen us coming down the road."

"What?" Her head jerked up, and she discovered they were approaching a sprawling two-story house with a multitude of outbuildings scattered behind. An enormous elm shaded a veranda that skirted the front of the house like a ruffle.

Low Down's gaze lifted to the gingerbread cutouts adorning the eaves, noted freshly painted green shutters framing the windows, then she drew a deep breath and forced herself to examine the people waiting on the veranda. They looked back at her as the wagon turned into the yard.

As she'd guessed, the McCords were a good-looking family and as impressive as the house. Gilly, small and pretty and stylish, stood beside a handsome sandy-haired man who must be Dave Weaver, her husband. Between them was a tiny version of Gilly, holding her mother's hand. To the left was a shorter, softer version of Max. That would be his brother, Wally. And standing apart from the others was a ramrod-straight woman, still handsome, wearing an expression that revealed no hint of her thoughts as she watched scandal spin into her yard and draw to a halt.

No one moved or spoke as Low Down swung down out of the wagon, forgetting to wait for Max to come around and offer his assistance. Abruptly aware that she hadn't behaved like a proper lady, she froze beside the wagon in a flutter of uncertainty, returning the scrutiny of her new family. Wally and Dave gazed at Max with sympathy narrowing their eyes. Gilly stared straight at Low Down, her eyes wide with—what?—curiosity? Dismay?

Then Max appeared beside her as his mother came marching down the steps, an ice-blue gaze fixed on her son until she reached the wagon. She examined the pox marks on Max's jaw, but she spoke to Low Down first.

"I'm Livvy McCord, Max's mother. And you must be…?"

Livvy McCord loomed large. There wasn't a doubt in Low Down's mind as to who ran the McCord household and probably always had. This was a formidable woman. Not a single wrinkle creased the woman's stiffly starched white blouse or her plain black skirt. And though a light breeze stirred the roses climbing the veranda trellis, not a strand of Livvy McCord's gray and auburn hair dared stray from the tidy bun crowning her head.

"I'm called Low Down." Though she cleared her throat, her voice emerged a mere degree above a whisper.

"Not here you're not," Livvy McCord said sharply, her eyebrows coming together. "You must have a name. What is it?"

"Louise Downe."

Not many women stood as tall as Low Down, and Max's mother reached only to her eyebrows.

Nevertheless, she would have sworn that Mrs. McCord towered over her.

Still not looking at Max, his mother took both of Low Down's hands in hers. "First, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my son's life. In his letter, Max said you were the only person willing to nurse the men who fell ill with pox. They would have died without your care. Is that true?"

Low Down cleared her throat again. "I guess it is." She cast a glance toward Max, who focused on the people still waiting on the veranda. Knots ran along his jawline.

"We have an unfortunate situation here," Livvy McCord said, speaking slowly, "and a lot of people will suffer for it. But you earned the right to ask for whatever you wanted, however ill-advised your choice might be. And you," she said, turning finally to Max, "did the right thing, regardless of the consequences.

No honorable man could refuse to draw a marble from the hat, not after you agreed to repay this woman for your life by granting whatever she wanted. You did what you had to do."

Mother and son gazed at each other, then Max enveloped his mother in a hug. Their embrace broke the paralysis of the people on the veranda and the rest of the family spilled into the yard.

Low Down met Gilly and Dave Weaver, who regarded her with frank curiosity and expressions that reserved judgment. Their daughter, Sunshine, smiled shyly and peeked up through long, dark lashes. And she met Wally, who gave her a solemn nod before he pounded Max on the back in a roughly affectionate greeting.

"You sure did it this time," he said, giving his brother a rueful grin.

Max returned a weak smile, then stepped forward to embrace Gilly and Sunshine and shake Dave Weaver's hand.

When the introductions and greetings ended, Livvy McCord sent the others inside but kept Max and Low Down beside the wagon. "We need to talk." Her eyes, as blue as Max's, steadied on Low Down. "I apologize for the necessary bluntness of this conversation. But time is of the essence. If anything is to be done about this situation, a solution must be found before Max speaks to Mr. Houser tonight."

"Bluntness ain't going to offend me. Hell, speak as freely as you want." After all the polite greetings, some plain speaking would be welcome.

Livvy McCord studied her for a long moment, and Low Down realized she'd said "ain't" and "hell." A suspicion that she wasn't making a wonderful first impression tugged her spirits down.

"As Max described the circumstances of your marriage, I sense the ceremony occurred quickly and impulsively. Correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." Low Down decided she could be blunt right back. "I wanted a baby, not a husband.

Things plumb got out of hand, and suddenly we were standing there being married. That was the preacher's idea, not mine. I guess you wouldn't agree about having a baby out of wedlock, but that's all I wanted."

"I believe it's immoral and wrong to deliver a child without benefit of marriage." But a hint of relief softened Livvy McCord's expression. "However, now that I understand your position, I believe we can resolve the current difficulties."

"Ma, there's no way to work this out." Hooking his thumbs in his back pockets, Max frowned toward the barn and a corner of the bunkhouse showing near a stand of cottonwoods.

Livvy glanced at Max then back to Low Down. "I'm sure you're aware that Max was to be married in ten days." When Low Down nodded, she drew a breath and continued. "Perhaps you'll agree that it isn't fair that Miss Houser will be humiliated and thrown into a scandal through no fault of her own."

"I told Max time and again that we should just pretend the marriage never happened," Low Down said solemnly. She had an idea where Livvy McCord was heading with this conversation.

"Excellent!" Color flooded Livvy's face, and her eyes brightened. "Then you wouldn't object to dissolving the marriage between you and my son?"

"Not at all." Low Down had no idea why she'd hesitated a beat. She also thought Max might jump in and tell his mother that they had planned to divorce after she got pregnant anyway. But Max didn't, so she didn't mention it either.

"Wonderful." Livvy addressed the next remark to Max. "It would create a far lesser scandal to postpone the wedding to Miss Houser than to jilt her practically at the altar. You can go to Wyoming and petition for a divorce at once. With a little luck, we can keep the purpose of your Wyoming trip secret, and no one need ever know about your marriage to Louise or the real reason for postponing the marriage to Miss Houser."

"Makes no never mind to me," Low Down offered. A twinge of regret pricked her skin, but it had never been her intention to cause Max any trouble. Besides, she might be pregnant already.

As far as she was concerned, the problem was now solved exactly as she had suggested in the first place. But Livvy McCord wasn't finished.

"There are many homeless children," she said, "and I will help you facilitate adoption. Max will see to it that you don't lack for funds to raise a child."

"That isn't necessary," Low Down protested. Now probably wasn't the moment to explain that she wanted her own baby, not someone else's.

"It is necessary," Livvy insisted. "You were promised a child, and you'll have a child." She looked from Low Down to Max and drew a breath. "There are many details to be settled, but I believe we've found a solution that will at least cushion the scandal if Miss Houser and her father agree, and I can't think why they wouldn't. Unless …"She hesitated, then firmly squared her shoulders.

"I detest asking such an unforgivably intimate question, but I must. There's one thing that might… is there any chance, any possibility at all, that Louise might be with child? Did the two of you… what I mean is, did you… ?"

To her astonishment, Low Down felt her cheeks burn red and noticed that Max's face had also flushed scarlet. Even Livvy McCord's cheeks showed high color. "Yes," Max answered in a strangled voice.

"That's why I'm willing to dissolve the marriage and leave," Low Down added, hoping to reassure. "Max did his duty. So I'm willing to call things even, and I think the boys in Piney Creek would be satisfied that Max kept his end of the bargain."

Far from being reassured, Livvy McCord looked stricken and her shoulders sagged. "I was afraid of this," she said in a low voice. "If there's any possibility that you might be with child, then we can't dissolve this marriage." Raising a shaking hand, she covered her eyes. "No son of mine is going to desert a woman who may be carrying his child. Divorce is no longer a consideration." She dropped her hand and blinked up at Max. "That's it, then. There's no way to sidestep what's coming." Turning, she lifted her skirts. "We might as well go inside and have some of Gilly's chocolate cake."

"Mrs. McCord, wait." Low Down took a step forward. "I might be pregnant or I might not. Either way, I'm willing to ride out of here right now, and Max can get a divorce or pretend the marriage never happened. I never wanted to cause anybody any trouble. I just wanted a baby."

Livvy turned on the steps. "The marriage between you and my son has been consummated; it's valid.

You are now part of this family, Mrs. McCord. There will be no more talk of divorce or riding away."

Her gaze narrowed. "You made this bed, now you lie in it."

His mother saw the situation as Max had predicted. Low Down had to accept the marriage and stop thinking about riding away. She gripped her secondhand purse with both hands and turned to Max. "I'm sorry," she said in a low voice.

"Like you said, you didn't put the marble in my hand." Removing his hat, Max pulled a hand through a tumble of dark curls, then he took her arm and led her inside to the parlor.

The room was elegant enough to widen Low Down's eyes and formal enough to suggest that it was used infrequently, perhaps only for special occasions.

At present, the tension in the faces of those who watched Max lead her inside told her that Livvy McCord had announced there was no way to get rid of her, no way to rescue Miss Houser, no way to avert the scandal rushing down on them.

Livvy stood before the unlit fireplace and waited until Low Down had perched uneasily on the edge of a mauve-dyed horsehair sofa. "Welcome to the McCord family," Livvy intoned solemnly. She spoke politely, but coolly. She sounded resigned.

The others also murmured words of welcome. But Low Down was conscious that Gilly politely examined her tight bodice, her worn secondhand shoes. When Gilly's gaze lifted to Low Down's hat, she noticed her new sister-in-law's lips turn down in something that might have been a delicate shudder.

Wally and Dave nodded to her, and she suspected they were comparing her, point by point, to Philadelphia Houser. She could guess how she fared in that contest. Sunshine seemed to be the only person present who had not formed an opinion.

"When is your meeting with the Housers?" Livvy asked Max.

"At five this afternoon."

Low Down glanced at the mantle clock.

"You'll need to leave in about an hour." Livvy gazed at her family. "Mrs. McCord saved Max's life. She's one of us now, and we'll stand by her. This situation is unfortunate for everyone, but no one is at fault."

Her gaze brushed Low Down.

Low Down was fascinated by the way Livvy McCord decided things as if she hadn't recently emerged from widow's weeds, as if she had always been the head of the household. Or maybe that was what being a mother was all about. Trying to solve the problems of her children, trying to protect them. This was the first time that she'd seen a caring mother in action.

"We'll have some of Gilly's cake, then you boys help Max unload the wagon," Livvy suggested, stepping toward the plates and napkins laid out on the sideboard.

"Did you buy a mule," Wally asked after he had a plate of cake balanced on his knees, "or does she belong to Mrs. McCord?"

For an instant Low Down thought Wally referred to his mother. A mild shock shook her hand when she realized he meant her.

The conversation turned to Max's summer in the Rockies , then Max inquired about the ranch. If not for the tight faces and an edgy undercurrent of tension, Low Down might have believed everyone had forgotten about Max's upcoming appointment.

As if her thoughts had cast a signal, the men abruptly rose thanked Gilly for the cake, then filed out behind Max to unload the wagon and see to Marva Lee and Rebecca. Low Down wished she could go with them.

"We might as well have our coffee in the kitchen," Livvy said, picking up cake plates.

Low Down jumped to her feet, but Livvy and Gilly had already collected the plates and she had only her own to carry to a large, sunny, well-equipped kitchen. Not wanting to be in the way, she sat at a long table and tried not to think about how foolish she felt wearing a hat when Livvy and Gilly were not. Tried not to think about her ill-fitting gown, or the corset that was squeezing the breath out of her.

"What's your mule's name?" Sunshine asked solemnly.

"Rebecca." At least someone wanted to talk to her. "How old are you?"

"I'm five. I can read and write my name."

After scraping and stacking the plates, Gilly took the chair across from her. "I'm sorry. I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but I keep thinking about Philadelphia , Miss Houser, that is, and how terrible this will be for her. I can't imagine how I would have felt if I'd been jilted at the last moment."

Livvy set cups of coffee in front of them, gave Sunshine a glass of milk, then sat down. "I feel sorry for Philadelphia , but I'm more concerned about what Howard Houser will do."

"Oh, Mama. Not business again."

"Rouser's bank holds the mortgage on Max's place."

Low Down frowned. "You don't think—"

"I hope I'm just borrowing trouble." Livvy studied Low Down's hat and her dress. "My daughter and I prepared Max's house. We made up the beds and stocked linens and food. But I think the two of you might as well stay here overnight. I doubt you feel up to getting organizing right now. You must be tired."

"I'm sorry about the trouble, ma'am," Low Down said, stirring a spoon around and around her coffee cup. And I'm sorry I ain't the kind you wanted your son to marry." She was too nervous being alone with them to remember about ain't. "I'm sorry about Miss Rouser. I'm sorry about damned near everything you can think of. I don't know what else to say."

"You strike me as a straight-talking woman," Livvy said into the ensuing silence. "So I'll admit this isn't the kind of marriage I wanted for Max. What mother would? A man should choose the woman who will be his life's partner and the mother of his children, not have the choice thrust on him."

"You must feel the same way yourself," Gilly added softly. "It must seem very odd to have a husband chosen by lot rather than by inclination. What a terrible situation for everyone."

Genuine sympathy glistened in Gilly's pale greenish-blue eyes, and Low Down suppressed a sigh. She had never known how to respond to tenderhearted women.

Sunshine clasped her small hands around the milk glass and looked up at Low Down. "Did you do something bad?"

"Why would you ask that?" Livvy inquired, frowning.

"Because Aunt Low Down keeps saying she's sorry."

"No, your aunt did not do something bad. And her name is not Low Down. We will call her Louise and think of her as Louise. That includes you," she said to Low Down.

"It's going to be hard to think of myself as Louise." She'd known Livvy McCord only a couple of hours and already Livvy was demanding changes. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Since it doesn't seem like the men are coming back anytime soon, we might as well start some get-acquainted talk." Livvy took a well-seasoned, black-bottomed coffeepot off the woodstove and refilled their cups. "Naturally we're curious about your background, where you were raised, who your family is."

For one long shameful moment, Low Down considered painting a pink gloss over her past. But these people were her new family, and they deserved better. So did she. Lifting her chin and gripping the coffee cup between her hands, she drew a deep breath then told her new mother and sister-in-law the unvarnished truth about herself beginning with the orphan train.

At the end of her story, they stared at her in wide-eyed silence.

When the grandfather's clock in the hallway chimed the half hour, Livvy and Gilly blinked. "Max must be walking up to the Houser's door right now," Gilly said in a low voice.

He'd ridden away without saying good-bye to anyone. Low Down lowered her head and gazed at the gold wedding band circling her finger. She'd believed he would check on her before he left.

After a minute she realized she was being foolish. She'd never required looking after, and she didn't now.

She turned her attention back to Livvy McCord and her daughter, both of whom were staring at her as if she'd sprouted antlers.

Low Down squared her shoulders and forced a shy smile to her lips. "I know you ain't too happy about me. But I'm so glad to be part of a family. I used to wonder how it would feel to sit at a kitchen table with a ma and a sister and a niece and just talk about things. It feels nice."

"Would you tell the part about the Chinaman and the laundry again?" Sunshine requested, enthralled.

Low Down laughed and retold that part of her history.