CHAPTER EIGHT

Margaret

Heath heard someone enter the house around midnight. He lay in bed and listened until he was comfortable the intruder was JR, and then returned to sleep.

At breakfast, Margaret asked JR if she could go to Sacramento.

JR shrugged. "I suppose. I planned on staying home today and working on taxes, though." He looked at Heath. "Would you mind taking her?"

Heath kept his features schooled. "No, sir. I'd be happy to take her."

"How much shopping are you planning to do?" JR asked Margaret.

She went and stood behind her father and rubbed his shoulders. "I have my birthday money to spend."

JR chuckled. "Okay, then I'll send a telegram to the Capitol Hotel to reserve two rooms."

"Thank you, Daddy." She kissed the top of his head.

Within the hour, they were loaded in the carriage and on their way to Sacramento.

Margaret scooted close to Heath. "Thank you again for the gifts you got me. I love the chess set, but I love more that you heard me when I said I wanted to learn how to manage a ranch and bought me the books that will help me learn how to do it."

"You're welcome."

"Heath, you do know you're the only friend I have, don't you? I mean, I have Caroline, but it takes a week or two for our letters to arrive and she's not here in person." She put her hand on his thigh. "Sometimes, I just need to touch another human being, you know what I mean?"

Her hand on his thigh was affecting his speaking abilities, but he managed to stutter, "Yes. Yes, I think I do."

"Daddy used to cuddle with me. He used to let me sit on his lap." She sighed. "And then, one day, he just stopped."

Heath stole a glance at her. "Why did he stop?"

Margaret was quiet for a long time. Finally, she said softly and hesitantly, "Do you know what happens to a woman every four weeks?"

Heath's cheeks immediately burned, but he nodded. "Yes. I grew up with three women."

"Well, when that first happened to me, I was fourteen. I didn't know what was happening, and it scared me. I told Daddy I was bleeding, and, well, he didn't want to hold me after that. He just gave me a stack of rags and told me the bleeding would last a few days and it would come back in about a month. And it was normal." She moved her hand up to his arm.

He released his right hand from the reins and took her hand in his.

"But nothing was normal after that. Daddy started treating me differently. He no longer let me sit on his lap and he no longer snuggled with me."

Heath squeezed her hand.

"I always loved to ride horses. Almost every day, I'd ride all over the ranch. But Daddy told me I was no longer allowed to wear riding pants. That I was a woman now, and if I wanted to ride, I had to ride side-saddle."

Heath felt her gaze upon him and looked at her. He gave her an encouraging nod.

"I didn't want to ride side-saddle. I wanted to be free and ride the way I always had." She shrugged sadly. "I tried to tell him how uncomfortable that was and how ridiculous it was on a ranch, but he wouldn't budge. So, I quit riding."

"That had to be hard. Riding is one of the most freeing experiences I've ever known."

"I agree. I'd love to be able to ride again." She sighed deeply and leaned against him. "And it was about that time that my body started changing. Daddy took me to the mercantile in Roseville and had the owner's wife tell me why and fit me with a corset. But I kept growing and my clothes no longer fit me. We went back to the mercantile and the owner's wife again fit me with a corset, and then she brought out these horribly matronly dresses that were way too big for me. I told her I didn't like them, and she said it was the only choice I had, since my bosom didn't fit in smaller dresses. They were like sacks—they just hung on me."

She sighed. "When I went to finishing school, the girls all made fun of me. They called me the country bumpkin. I think that's when Caroline and I became friends. She was from a farm, and they made fun of her, too. But I did learn that I could get dresses that fit me better if I got low-cut ones. We were allowed to go shopping once a month, and I started finding the dresses that fit me without making me feel like a dowdy old woman."

Heath put his arm around her and drew him closer to him. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Margaret sighed again. "I love my father. I love him with all my heart. But he has never allowed me to make my own decisions about anything. About what to wear, about what I want to read, about wanting to go to college. He has always dictated everything and will never budge."

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"Oh, Heath." She shook her head. "I've tried so many times. He just calls me a spoiled brat and says I'm being difficult. He just doesn't understand at all. He thinks because I'm a woman that my only goal should be to find a rich man to keep me so I can sit around and file my nails."

Heath chuckled. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't want to be a socialite, that's for sure. I want to do important things. I mean, I understand I have some limitations physically because I'm a woman, but I've done about every job on the ranch that can be done. At least, until Daddy found out and forbid me from doing such things—and then forbid me from even talking to the men." She grunted. "I want to help run a ranch. I want to at least be involved on the business side of things. Even if I'm a woman, I have a brain."

"You sure do. You're one of the smartest people I know." And who knew? If she'd been allowed to go to school, maybe she'd be as smart as Jarrod.

She looked into Heath's eyes. "Do you think I'm a spoiled brat? Do you think I'm rebellious?"

"I think you're an intelligent young woman who knows her own mind and who will do great things in life—even if your fingernails aren't perfect."

Margaret laughed. "I hate fingernails!"

"What would your father do if we got you a pair of gauchos? A riding outfit?"

Margaret took in a big breath and released it. "Probably refuse to allow me to wear it."

Heath considered. "I wonder if he'd change his mind if I talked to him?"

"He thinks a lot of you," Margaret said. "But what would you say?"

"I'd say that I love it when my mother and sister ride with me, and I'd love you to be able to as well."

"He'd just say that was fine, as long as I rode side-saddle." She rolled her eyes. "I'd like to see him ride sidesaddle."

Heath laughed. They rode silently for a few minutes, then he glanced at Margaret. "What kind of dresses do you want to wear? I mean, if you could wear any kind of dress you wanted and didn't have to just buy something that fit you?"

Margaret's posture stiffened. "I can't, so why even think about it?"

"Because if we know what we want, we can figure out ways to make it happen."

She threw her hands into the air. "All I ever wanted was to wear dresses like girls my age wear. Something pretty. Something that doesn't either make me look like an old woman or a lady of the evening." Her shoulders drooped. "But I can't. When I was at finishing school, some of the girls told me how lucky I was to be 'well-endowed.' But I don't feel lucky about that at all. I just feel like I have these appendages that keep me from wearing pretty clothes."

"You know," Heath said, "You can get custom-made dresses."

"Not in Roseville, you can't."

"Well, we're going to Sacramento. Why don't we check out the dressmakers' shops and get you some dresses that you like and that fit you well?"

"But doesn't it take like a really long time for them to make a dress?"

Heath shrugged. "We'll have to ask."

"And then we'd have to make another trip to Sacramento."

"I'll be in Sacramento for the drive. I'm not sure yet how long that drive will be, but I could pick up whatever was ready for you on our way back."

Margaret moved even closer to Heath. "Thank you for understanding. Other than Caroline, you're the only person in the world who understands me."

Heath gave her a one-armed hug, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.

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