Silver Lining (21 page)

Turning to the window, she watched the cold drizzle slanting across the hotel gardens. At odd moments she found herself thinking about seeing Max again. How would they behave toward each other? What would they say? She wanted him to feel guilty and jealous; it was what he deserved. But she hadn't yet decided how to achieve that goal. She had to take into account that others would be watching and judging their reaction to each other.

"I want him punished," she said softly. The rain reminded her of all the tears she had shed. "He has to pay for what he did." She didn't have to identify whom she meant.

Her father nodded, and his eyes hardened like stones. It didn't matter that she had engineered her own destruction and was more to blame than Max. She didn't see it that way. Max had betrayed her and refused to marry her. He had turned his back in her hour of need. The chain of events that ended with her pregnant and married to Max's brother had begun when Max refused to do as she wished. He should have stayed home in stead of going to the mountains for the summer. Had he done as she'd asked, none of this would have happened. She would not be pregnant. The low creature Max married would have married someone else.

She wanted them both to suffer.

*

Like most western towns, Fort Houser spread outward from Main Street . Modest homes occupied the outskirts of town, while larger and more elaborate homes were found the closer one approached Main Street . Main Street itself was broad enough to easily accommodate two-way traffic, and was cobbled before the bank and the county courthouse. Livvy mentioned there were plans to cobble in front of the post office and town hall come next spring.

Louise, who believed she was not sensitive to such things, noticed that people stopped on the boardwalk to stare as the McCord women drove past on the wagon. She fancied that she drew the most intense attention. "Aren't there any saloons in this town?" A whiskey sounded good right now. Maybe Livvy and Gilly were thinking the same, given the way folks gawked at them.

"The saloons and parlor houses are located about a mile north of town." Livvy kept her gaze firmly forward, but her terse voice indicated her awareness of the interest they attracted. "The Ladies Society has been trying to close them down for years. So far it hasn't happened."

All right, Livvy and Gilly weren't thinking about whiskey. But the idea still sounded good to Louise.

The mature elms shading Main announced to all and sundry that Fort Houser was not a flash in the pan, but an established town worthy of the name. Brick storefronts imparted an impression of age and stability. Church steeples rising above the tree line suggested a settled, organized community. If Philadelphia 's grandfather were still alive, he would have been proud of the town he had founded.

Livvy reined up before the Fort Houser Ladies' Emporium and set the wagon brake. "The first time is the hardest," she said quietly. "Both of you, hold your heads high and remember that you're McCords. Gilly, don't allow anyone to draw you into a discussion about what's happened. Louise, act like a lady and try not to look like a seductress."

"Me?" Her eyebrows soared, but she didn't laugh.

"Don't look hangdog, either. Not too assertive and not too apologetic." Livvy leaned across Gilly to look Louise in the eye. "I've noticed that you either thrust out your chin like you're spoiling for a fight, or you hunch up like you're hoping to disappear."

"I do?" But she knew that was exactly what she did.

"Aim for something in between," Livvy ordered, swinging down out of the wagon, then smoothing her skirts and straightening her hat. "And stick close by. Don't go wandering off."

The warm feeling of family cooled somewhat. Louise doubted Livvy would have thought it necessary to warn Philadelphia to act like a lady, or to tell her how to look, how to behave, and where to stand. Lips pressed together, she swung down from the wagon seat and conducted a quick inventory.

She was wearing one of the ensembles she'd purchased at the seconds shop in Denver . Comparing herself to Livvy and Gilly, she suspected her skirt and jacket were hopelessly out of fashion, but the length of her skirt was approximately correct, and the fit wasn't far off. She was clean and tidy. Her silly ladies' hat was almost the same color as her brown jacket. This morning she had carefully spit-shined her boots and had washed and ironed a fresh hanky.

Her chin came up, and her eyes hardened. Livvy and Gilly might not agree, but she didn't feel her appearance needed apology. She'd done the best she could with what she had to work with.

Gilly pressed her arm and gave her a look of encouragement. "With your hair and eyes, brown is a good choice. Don't you agree, Mama?"

Livvy was pushing at her gloves, studying the gold lettering curving across the emporium's display window. "Mmm. Green and gold would also be good." Sunlight dappled through the elm branches and lit the auburn strands threading the coil on her neck. Livvy McCord was a handsome woman; she must have been a beauty thirty years ago.

Livvy adjusted the strings of her purse, then lifted her head high and arranged a smile on her lips. "Gilly, I'm relying on you to select the trim we discussed." Stepping forward, she opened the door to the emporium. "Louise, you'll come with me. I want to hold the fabric near your face before we make any purchase. Gold may be as wonderful as I think, or it may make you look sallow. Of course, we won't know for certain until your tan fades. I suspect we'll have to take our chances."

A cheerful hum of voices greeted them when Livvy opened the door. As they stepped inside, however, a wave of silence began at the front aisles and rolled backward toward the bolts of material stacked up the far wall.

Had it not been for the silence, Louise doubted she would have noticed the tapping of their heels against a wooden floor. To her ears, their steps sounded like two deer and a horse clomping across a hard surface. Livvy managed to look stately and even a bit imposing as she moved toward the back. Gilly seemed delicate, and circles of pink burned on her cheeks, imparting an impression of fragility. Louise felt anything but stately or delicate. She felt tall and clumsy, big-handed, big-footed, a fit object for ridicule and scorn. When Gilly turned toward the trim department, Louise moved up next to Livvy.

"Get your chin off your chest and hold your head up," Livvy whispered from the side of her mouth. She smiled as she approached a woman standing behind a counter wearing a tape measure around her neck.

"Mrs. McConigle, I hope you aren't too busy today, as we require your assistance for a rather large order." Withdrawing a list from her purse, she drew a breath and began. "If we put a ruffle around the hem of your everyday skirts, I think they'll do nicely," she said to Louise. To Mrs. McConigle, she added, "We'll need wash poplin and black broadcloth, enough for a half dozen ruffles."

Louise stood like a dolt, clutching her purse in front of her waist, gazing at the wide bolts of material. She recognized the serge and broadcloth, and velvet and cotton prints and gingham. There were lightweight wools that she hadn't seen before and many fabrics she didn't recognize.

"Whipcord serge in golden brown. That will do nicely for a suit." Livvy's pencil made a scratching noise against her list. "We'll want French taffeta for the holidays, I think." She eyed Louise as if seeing her for the first time. "Not a plaid, a solid. Green. Now how many yards, I wonder?"

"Do I have a say in any of this?" Louise inquired uneasily, shifting from one foot to the next.

"It's all been decided," Livvy answered in a frosty tone, indicating her list.

Mrs. McConigle pulled down a flat bolt of green taffeta and began to roll out the yardage. With a sly look she picked a newspaper off the counter and handed it to Louise. "Would you hold this for a moment? It's in the way, and we wouldn't want to smudge newsprint on the fabric now, would we?"

Louise glanced at the newspaper and sucked in a breath. It was folded back to a headline that read: Granddaughter of Founder Weds Rancher. Philadelphia 's name jumped off the page. So did Wally's.

"When you've finished measuring out the taffeta, we'll need some chambray for shirtwaists in both plain and print, if you please." Livvy glanced at the newspaper in Louise's hands then made another checkmark on her list. "I hope Gilly can find bead trim for the taffeta. And I do hope dress stays are on her list." Only the crimson climbing her throat indicated she had read the headline.

And then the whispering began. Or perhaps it had begun earlier but only now moved close enough that Louise and Livvy could overheard a few words and phrases. As they were intended to overhear.

"… his own brother's bride. Indecent is what …"

"She must have been carrying on with one brother while she was betrothed to… "

"Well, I think the oldest McCord jilted her and she ran off with the other one for spite. Look at the dates. The oldest one married first."

"That's her over there… the one who married Max McCord days before he was supposed to marry…

what kind of hussy would…"

"… don't know how they can show their faces as if nothing … "

It seemed to go on and on and on until Gilly appeared at the fabric counter, her cheeks pulsing with high color. "I believe I have everything. It's loaded in the wagon. Are you ready?" Her eyes pleaded with them to say yes.

"It will take all of us to carry these packages," Livvy said, hastily loading a multitude of string-tied parcels into Louise's and Gilly's arms.

She lifted a similar number of packages and started down the long aisle toward the street door. This time she didn't march silently. "Good morning, Mrs. Howard. Miss Greene." The ladies did not return her cool-eyed greeting. "A lovely day, Mrs. Peabody. Mrs. Johnson." Near the door she stopped suddenly and Louise almost ran into her. "Mrs. Halston, I haven't seen you in ages. May I present my dear daughter-in-law, Mrs. Max McCord." There was nothing warm in Livvy's voice. Her tone was steely and stubborn.

"Howdy do," Louise murmured, pasting a smile on her lips. She couldn't shake hands because of the parcels stacked nearly to her chin, and didn't know if women shook hands in any case.

Mrs. Halston pointedly ignored her. Cool, condemning eyes remained on Livvy. "Am I to assume there will be no wedding on Sunday, Mrs. McCord?"

"I believe today'sGazette answers that question, Mrs. Halston." Livvy's gaze was equally cool and unapologetic. "If you'll excuse us …"After nodding curtly, she swept out the door with Gilly and Louise trailing behind.

Silently they dropped their packages in the wagon bed, then climbed up on the seat. "Spines straight, heads high." Livvy released the brake and flicked the reins across the backs of the team.

When they reached the outskirts of town, Gilly raised a shaking hand to her forehead. "I've never heard you make an improper introduction before."

Livvy kept her gaze on the road and didn't answer.

"They kept whispering loud enough that I finally realized I was meant to overhear. I'm so glad I decided to leave Sunshine with Mrs. Radowitz. Glad she didn't hear any of this."

"What are the gossips saying?"

Gilly dropped her hand to her lap. " Philadelphia , who is blameless, is—"

" Philadelphia is not entirely blameless," Livvy snapped.

"—the villainess, stringing along both brothers, being no better than she should be. In another version, poor Wally is the cad. He was romancing Philadelphia all along behind Max's back and convinced her to betray his own brother. And there are those who believe that Louise is to blame. Louise worked her wiles on Max, dazzled him so thoroughly that he forgot about poor Philadelphia and married an adventuress. When Philadelphia learned she'd been jilted, she turned to Wally for comfort, then ran off with him out of spite."

"From now on scandal will be a constant part of our lives. Mark my words. The gossips will be counting the months until Philadelphia 's babe is born. And then another wave of ugliness will begin while the rumormongers speculate on whose baby she's carrying. Well. I guess we don't have to worry about Louise or Philadelphia being inconvenienced by a stream of callers from town."

The distant mountains rose majestic and changeless above the tops of the cottonwoods dotted across the range. Louise gazed at the snowy caps and wished she could turn back the clock and return to Piney Creek and the celebration party at Olaf's cabin. If she could live the moment over again, she would ask the miners for a pouch of gold and call it good.

She genuinely liked Max and Livvy and Gilly. She expected to like Wally and Gilly's husband, Dave, when she knew them better. And she had brought all of them nothing but trouble and shame. That hadn't been her intention.

No one spoke until Livvy turned the wagon down the ruts leading to Max's house. Then Louise inhaled deeply, leaned forward, and said in a haughty voice, "Am I to assume there will be no wedding on Sunday, Mrs. McCord?"

Livvy and Gilly stared at her and immediately she regretted her impulsive imitation of the imperious Mrs.

Halston.

Then, as Louise was starting to feel foolish, Gilly blurted, "Yes, you stupid cow, since everyone concerned is already married, you may assume there will be no wedding on Sunday."

Louise pushed the folded newspaper into Gilly's hands. "Perhaps you would like to read the full account, Mrs. Halston," she said, switching roles, "and see if you can figure out for your small mean self if there will be a wedding on Sunday."

"I already know the answer, Mrs. McCord," Gilly said with a sniff. She tilted her head back to look down her nose at Louise. "I'm only inquiring for the purpose of embarrassing you and calling to your attention the unforgivable behavior of those cads, your sons."

"And who is this?" Louise exclaimed, looking down at herself. "Could this be the irresistible temptress who started it all? The seductress no man can resist?"

"My heavens," Gilly gasped, drawing back in horror. "I believe it is. Have you no shame? How dare you show your face in public?"

"Because I don't give a flying—ah, fig—what you think, Mrs. Halston."