“He was with her this morning,” she said. “I followed him.”
“Oh, no,” Maggie said. Several possible scenarios flitted through her mind, each more lurid than the last.
“He wasn’t doing anything, Maggie, or perhaps I was just a little early. He forced me back here.”
“And?”
Byrony said not a word.
Maggie sighed. It really wasn’t any of her business. It was probable that Brent had been utterly furious, that he’d acted the domineering male and ripped up at his young wife. And then? Maggie suddenly became aware of the smells in the room. Dinner smells, the faint scent of gardenia, and sex. So, the idiot had forced her, punished her, then slammed out.
“Maggie?”
“Yes, love.”
“I’m not much of a person, am I?”
“What in heaven’s name do you mean?”
“I’m not a good person, or a strong person.” Maggie watched her stare down at the tray. She hated the look of misery on Byrony’s face.
“That’s bosh, and you know it, Byrony.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m boring you. And I’m acting like a whining child. I’ve always loathed people who carried on about their problems, burdening other people with them. I’ve always believed that one should act. Lord knows I managed to act, not at all wisely perhaps, with Ira. Now here I am a shivering—” Byrony leaned back against the head-board and closed her eyes. “Thank you for the dinner, Maggie. You’ve been very kind to me.”
“You are not a whining person, Byrony. Felice is a whiner. I think perhaps you would act if you knew what action to take.”
Byrony laughed. “There’s a good deal of truth in that, I suspect.”
“I would say, though, that you’re very confused and unhappy with the present situation. Brent is occasionally the most stubborn, bullheaded man I’ve ever met. but he’s also kind and loyal. He’s so used to being alone, Byrony, to never giving himself completely to another. He’s twenty-seven; and he’s been alone for nine years. That’s a lot of years to depend only on yourself. I’m not defending him. But you need to understand him. I’ve seen him the angel and I’ve seen him the devil. I guess most of us have both in us. Now, would you like to tell me about it? I’m accounted a good listener.”
She said, her voice calm, almost singsong, “I wish I’d never seen him in San Diego, never felt about him the way I did when I first saw him. But that’s all in the past now. I’m married to a man who doesn’t love me, who is afraid I’ll become pregnant so he’ll be tied to me.” She turned to face Maggie, her face white, her eyes swollen. “I only want someone to care about me. Is that so much to ask, Maggie? I don’t want to live my life without feeling some happiness, some sense of being important to another person. Oh drat, this is ridiculous. I swore I wouldn’t shed another tear, and just look at me. A weak woman crying her bloody head off because she’s too immature to take charge of her life. Just look at you, Maggie. You’re strong, independent, sure of yourself. I want to be like you.”
Now, that is a revelation, Maggie thought, both touched and amused. “All right,” she said. “You want to know what I would do?”
“Yes, please.”
“I would buy myself a whip, and when words failed, I would take it to his tough hide. Sometimes, I’ve found, it’s difficult to get a man’s attention.”
Byrony stared at her. “You wouldn’t just pack up and leave?”
“If I hated the man I would, and without a backward glance. However, if I thought I could salvage him, if I wanted to salvage him, I’d keep pounding some sense into his thick skull.”
It sounded so logical, Byrony thought, so straightforward, and—yes, easy. But Brent wasn’t around. She laughed, nodding.
Maggie felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. There was strength in her, strength, fire, and determination. Damn Brent anyway. Why did he have to be such a blind idiot? “Now,” Maggie said briskly, “I have some work to do. Shall I ask Caesar to have some bathwater sent up to you?”
“Yes, please.” Byrony threw back the blanket and nearly bounded from the bed. She hugged the other woman tightly. “Thank you, Maggie.”
“You just get that whip, my dear. It there are any wagers to be made, my money’s on you.”
Byrony giggled, this time a pure, happy sound.
“Heavens, this room is a mess. I must straighten it up.”
Maggie left her rushing about, filled with purpose. It wasn’t until much later that Maggie learned that Brent was gambling with James Cora at the El Dorado, drunk as a loon, and itching for a fight, which he got. He was delivered to Maggie’s doorstep, bloodied, still drunk, a stupid grin on his battered face.
“We didn’t want to take him to his new wife, ma’am,” said Limpin’ Willie. “Didn’t wanna scare the sh—the hell out of her.”